


Patches

by MakiMosa



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Being a single father is hard, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Feels, Former Lovers - Freeform, Hyrule Politics, M/M, Mommy Issues, Papa!Link, Post-Canon, Relationship Issues, Scorned lovers, Violence, being a weird 12 year old is hard too, zelink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 64,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11706492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakiMosa/pseuds/MakiMosa
Summary: Post-Canon. For over 10 years, Link has raised his 12 year old daughter in relative anonymity as a single father in Lurelin Village, doing his best to leave his past behind.Meanwhile, Zelda, haunted by what she has lost and trying to forget it, struggles to claim her autonomy as a woman from a Counsel who is eager to see her married and pregnant by a man of Royal blood.However when the mounting threat of an evolving Yiga Clan forces Link to take up his former life, the pair are faced with an awkward new dynamic, and the task of repairing old wounds from 10 years prior.





	1. Chapter 1

“…Your majesty?”

Zelda sighed in annoyance. “I do not wish to be bothered, Kass.” Her gaze remained fixed on the large window that opened to the floral courtyard below her as she swirled her wineglass absentmindedly.

The Rito bard shifted uncomfortably. “I understand, your majesty, but you have a suitor—“

“How many times have I told you people, if I see one more goddess-forsaken lout asking for my hand I’m imprisoning him on sight!” She spun to face him, her cheeks flushed with anger and perhaps alcohol. “And stop calling me “your majesty”!”

Kass nodded appeasingly. “Zelda. I know this is frustrating for you. I know your legacy, and I know you desire very different things than what this kingdom expects from you.”

“But?”

“But…as you certainly realize, you are soon passing the ideal child-bearing age, and the Council expects an heir—“

A humorless laugh cut him off. “I had an heir, and they tried to kill her.”

This time it was Kass who sighed wearily. “Forgive my words, dear Zelda, but she was a bastard child, not a true heir, and in any case we’ve not seen hide nor hair of her in 10 years since her father kidnapped—“

The shattering of a wineglass stopped him abruptly.

“As much as I value your presence, Kass, do not forget your place."

Zelda’s sea green eyes shined furiously through barely contained tears. Kass held her glare with wide eyes until Zelda’s face crumbled into saddened defeat.

“I…I’m so sorry. I—you didn’t deserve that”. Her voice was heavy with weariness. “I’m just getting very tired of seemingly everyone and their mother having an opinion on what I should be doing with lady bits.”

Kass approached her, careful to avoid the shards of glass and splattered wine. He enveloped a colorful wing around her shoulders as she sank into a velvet lounge chair.  
Her eyes fell to her feet in shame. “Kass…answer me honestly.” She looked up at the bard’s gentle face. “Am I being selfish?”

She regarded him with an expression so vulnerable that she appeared no older than a girl, despite not having been considered one in over a decade.

He offered her a rueful smile, and dropped his wing from her shoulder to his accordion. “I’m not sure I can answer that question, dear friend. But I do know a song about the Princess of Legend that could perhaps ease your spirits a bit. Do you care to hear it?”

Zelda eased into a small smile. “I would love to.”

* * *

 

“Link…Link, please, this is really high up.”

Garini clung to the cliffside, his whole body trembling wildly as he forced himself to not look down.

Link, who was a good 20 feet above him, glanced down at his companion unaffectedly before returning to scan the rock face for another crag to climb to.

“I mean, how do we even know for sure something is up there?” Garini continued, trying in vain to keep the panic and frustration out of his voice. “Or, what if there is something, but it’s just a bunch of rusted Traveler’s Swords or something?”

Link leapt nimbly to a small escarpment, ignoring Garini’s nervous ramblings.

Garini continued to talk as he inched his way up the rock face, his voice jumping tensely with each slip. “Why are we doing this? Why am I doing this—“ He grunted with effort as he clambered to an outcropping large enough for him to catch his breath.

Link was almost to the top now, and appeared largely unfazed by either the fatigue or the fact that they dangled precariously several hundred feet above Lurelin Village. The fact that he and Link appeared to be around the same age, but that Link had much more stamina than even the most athletic young men of Necluda never ceased to amaze him.

Finally, Link spoke. “If you don’t hurry and make it up here, I can’t help you on the way down.”

The thought of climbing down the cliff side on foot filled Garini with a cold panic, which he used to propel himself up the last several feet to the top. Garini flopped over to the grassy top of the cliff, shaking as the adrenaline slowly wore off. “Find anything?” he asked when his breath steadied enough to speak.

A wry smile crept across Link’s face. He crouched down to hold something shiny above Garini.

“Wait, is that –“ Garini propped himself up by his bony elbows, small dark eyes wide in excitement.

The geometric shape of a sapphire, the color of the sea on a cloud-darkened day, glinted in Link’s gloved hand. “There’s about 5 more in that buried in that chest.”

Garini’s eyes glimmered. “We’ll be set for the next few months with a catch like this!”

Link filled his pack with the gemstones and cinched the bag shut decisively. “Technically. But don’t think that means I won’t expect you to have another lead early next month.”

Garini deflated. He had been working with Link ever since the he’d moved to Lurelin Village with his young daughter ten or so years ago. Link had remembered how he’d found the first ruins of what would turn out to lead to a hidden shrine, and had convinced him to search for leads for other possible treasure locations in return for a generous cut of the prize.

Of course, when he accepted the proposal, Garini had no idea just how intense the man could be. He figured single parents would be fairly boring and domestic, loathe to take any risk that might result in leaving their children orphans.

He was wrong.

It was rare that a treasure hunt went smoothly, bringing them on an accessible, pleasant hike. They almost always involved a certain element of danger – be it sneaking atop a sleeping Hinox to steal valuables strung across its massive neck, or a cave in a field prowled by a Lynel, or –in this case—atop a rugged cliff that towered above the beach.

“Really? Next month? You don’t want to…I don’t know, take it easy for a month or two?” Garini ventured, rising clumsily to his feet.

Link shot him a sideways look.

  
“Okay well that’s fine it was just a suggestion!” He stammered. Even after a decade of working together, Link still intimidated him. Something in the feral way his blue eyes glimmered had the power to make him cower.

Link took out his paraglider and positioned himself at the edge of the cliff, glancing expectedly over his shoulder at Garini.

With a big sigh, Garini wrapped his thin arms around Link’s shoulders.

“Don’t choke me this time,” Link warned before leaping off the edge, a screaming Garini draped over his shoulders like a bony cape.

* * *

 

The sky was tinted light pink with dusk by the time Link made it to the palapa he had called home for the past ten years. In the central living room surrounded by a fortress of scattered papers and books sat two pre-teen girls – a heavy-set, dusky-skinned girl with thick, black, curly hair pulled up into a tight bun, and a considerably smaller girl with short, wild blonde hair and large blue eyes hidden behind an even larger pair of glasses. They both looked up from their books to greet him.

“Hey dad,” the blonde girl chirped, her friend following suit with a slightly nervous “Hello, sir!”

Link offered them a warm smile as he made his way to the washroom to rinse his hands. “I’m sorry I’m back so late…have you girls eaten?”

His daughter, Lola, shook her head vigorously.

“No, we actually got back not that long ago. Is it okay if Malia has dinner with us?”

“Of course Malia can have dinner with us, as long as her mother is okay with it.”

Aside from the fact that he found Malia to be a sweet, well-mannered girl whose friendship was a comforting and positive influence on Lola, her mother, Kiana, proved to be a godsend in watching Lola during his longer excursions. Kiana’s house proved almost to be a second home for her, and it was a great burden off his shoulders knowing that if at any point he’d have to be gone for a week or more, Lola would be well-fed and well-loved in her best friend’s home. In light of this, it was the absolute least he could do to return the favor when it was possible.

Malia piped up. “She’s fine with it, she just assumes that I’m here when I’m not home anyway.”

Link rolled his shoulders as he began filleting one of the Staminoka Bass he’d bought off the fishing boat just before. “Well, it’s still always good to be courteous and let her know. But if you say she’s fine with it then I trust you.”

Lola stood up and began gathering the papers and books scattered around them, Malia following suit.

Link glanced back at them. “So what were you two up to after school if you just got back not too long ago?”

“Oh, uh—“ Lola looked to her friend for support. “We heard there was some cool rocks so we like, wanted to check them out and stuff.”

“Cool rocks,” he repeated flatly, pausing his cooking to furrow his brows suspiciously at her.

“Yeah,” she replied, doing her best to hold eye contact.

After an uncomfortable beat of silence, Malia broke her resolve. “Actually we were assigned a research project at school, and Lola wanted to do it on the ancient artifacts that we have scattered around the village, so we went to Palmorae Beach –“ Lola elbowed her to stop talking.

Link cocked an eyebrow. “You went all the way to Palmorae Beach?”

The two girls were probably the least adventurous children he’d ever encountered. Any time he’d try to get Lola to come with him on a hike or any activity that required a higher level of risk than lounging on a beach or reading a book, she’d beg not to (or panic and act sullen if he forced her anyway).

“…And what ‘ancient artifacts’ were you looking for?”

Lola willed Malia not to respond. Something in the tone of her father’s voice told her they were dangerously near a touchy subject, and she could only hope that Malia was perceptive enough to catch on.

“Um—“ she cut off Malia just as she opened her mouth to respond. “Just the—the weird glowing thing—“

“The shrine,” he stated.

She nodded bashfully.

Link sighed through his nose and turned his attention back to his cooking. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Sometime after their dinner of braised fish and steamed rice, a large middle-aged woman with graying black hair poked her head through the bamboo door. “Hello! Any chance of getting my daughter to come home?” she asked, a good natured smile dimpling her fleshy cheeks.

Link stood up from the chair he had been occupying, a mug in hand. “Depends. They’re doing some sort of project in Lola’s room.” He raised his cup as an offer. “Hyrule Herb.”

Kiana snorted and waved off the offer. Despite probably being a good fifteen years his senior and happily married, she still felt herself get hot in the cheeks around him. He was quiet and kind-spirited, and probably one of the most beautiful men—make that people—she’d ever seen. He had first showed up to their sleepy coastal village around ten years ago seemingly out of nowhere, with two year old Lola in tow. Few in-land Hylians ever settled in Lurelin due to the lack of economic opportunity, so the fact that he seemed perfectly content to adapt one of the vacant palapas into a permanent home made him a bit of an anomaly and reason for suspicion.

Whenever asked where he came from, he would simply shrug and with an impish smile reply, “A strange place.”

When asked about Lola’s lack of a mother, he said he got her from a Fairy Fountain.

Naturally, this led to all sorts of rumors and assumptions – he was a runaway murderer, or a man who wanted a change of scenery after the tragic death of his wife – but his willingness to help those in need and affable, easy-going nature made the villagers abandon the more nefarious possibilities and accept him happily.

“Malia! Time to come home, sweetie!” Kiana called in the general direction of one of the back rooms.

“Okay!” came the reply, followed shortly by Malia scuffling into the living room to meet her mother, Lola trailing behind.

Kiana placed a fleshy hand on her daughter’s back as she wiggled her feet into her sandals. “Thank you so much again, Link. I’m so grateful to have a neighbor like you.”

Link blushed and smoothed down the loose hair at the nape of his neck. “ ‘S nothing. And likewise.” He offered her a shy smile that warmed her face, and she thanked her dark complexion and the unevenness of the lighting for keeping it hidden.

After they were off, Link turned back to Lola, who was already slinking back to her room.

“Hey.”

She stopped in her tracks.

“We need to talk.”

Lola’s heart thumped in her chest. His voice was soft and his tone neutral, but the implications of his words made her very nervous. She knew he felt some kind of way about her interest in ancient Sheikah technology by the way he would try to change the subject anytime she brought it up, or the disapproving sighs he gave when he would find her sketching drawings inspired by it, or poring over a book about it.

“If you wanted to go to Palmorae Beach, you should have asked me,” he narrowed his eyes slightly.

Lola reeled back, surprised. “You’d get mad…”

He huffed and trained his gaze to the ceiling. “I mean, I’m not thrilled. But you still need to tell me where you’re going rather than just go off on your own.” Heat started to creep into his voice. “It’s disrespectful and dangerous. There are still plenty of Lizalfoes over there…imagine something happened to you two. No one would know. You remember what happened to that little boy a couple of years ago?”

His voice was quivering with anger by now, and Lola folded in on herself. Crap, he was really mad…

Against her better judgement, she dared to plead her case. “It was really calm over there, dad. You know how much I hate dangerous stuff. There hasn’t been anything ever since they cleared it out after that thing with the little boy!”

Link drew in a sharp breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. His left eyebrow twitched nervously, a sign Lola had learned to pick up on years ago to forewarn of his impending ire.

Finally he spoke, having regained control of the neutral curtain that once again fell over his countenance. “Don’t do it again. I don’t care how safe you think it is, I don’t want to hear about you looking for those ruins again.”

Ah, so that’s what it was about.

He didn’t care that it was dangerous—he was the one always giving her grief about being a scaredy cat and only wanting to sit inside and read rather than explore the world. And besides, he had helped clear out the Lizalfoes den after they had snatched and killed a little boy who had been playing on the beach nearby. He just didn’t want her to look at the ruins, because for whatever stupid reason he hated that they interested her.

Lola dropped her head to look at her feet in defeat, her cheeks puffed in a small display of defiance. “Fine.”

Link regarded his daughter with a mix of frustration and curiosity. His eyes wandered to the top of her frizzy blonde head, which she told him she had cut herself on a whim after getting frustrated with having him painfully brush out all of the tangles that would accumulate from lack of maintenance. Her glasses balanced precariously on the bridge of her slightly snub, upturned nose, which was surrounded by a face that still carried a lot of puppy fat.

She’s so much like her, he thought ruefully. Though most people would comment on how strikingly similar she looked to him – it’s because of the eyes, he would tell them – he knew that truthfully, she was her mother through and through. Scruffier and much less refined, sure. But the relentless intellectual curiosity and stubborn resolve was Zelda’s gift to her, and proved to be a curse to him.

“Lulu.”  
His hand fell to the top of her head. Lola snapped her attention up to her father, triggered by the usage of her baby name, and the affectionate shift in his tone of voice. The last of his ire had melted from his face, and he offered her a subtle but warm smile.

“You know I react like this because I love you, right?”

Her bottom lip formed a suspicious pout. No, he reacted like this because it annoyed him that she liked things he didn’t want her liking. She knew he wished she was more adventurous and less of a bookworm, and she found it frustrating that he constantly tried to pretend otherwise.

She shrugged in response and averted her gaze. Undeterred, he gathered her face in his hands, squishing her cheeks together until her frown was pushed into a comical pucker.

“Shtoop,” she whined, trying in vain to push his hands away.

He used this as an opening to capture her in a binding hug. “My little Lulu is so serious now! She’s too grown to hug her old man—“

“Arggghhh!” Lola gave a frustrated groan as she tried to push away from him, embarrassed and annoyed by her father’s display of affection. Link, who relished in any opportunity to embarrass and/or annoy his daughter, seemed pleased.

“I won’t let go until you tell me you love me too.” He said, mischief lining his voice.

Lola gave up on struggling, as he was impossibly strong. She was still angry about earlier, and the furthest thing from her mind was any love for her father.

Link sensed her lingering resentment and decided to up the stakes. “I can do this all night, you know. I might even be tempted to plant a nice, wet kiss on one of those chubby little cheeks…”

“Okay, okay fine I love you too or whatever!”

He released her so suddenly she stumbled back a few steps before regaining her footing. He stood with his hands on his hips, a victorious smirk on his face. “Goodnight.”  
She sighed, her aggravation fading despite herself. “Goodnight, dad.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm going to have to change the rating to Mature sooner than I had expected with the upcoming chapters...anyway, without further ado...chapter two!

She had to admit, this one wasn’t half bad.

He had a full head of meticulously groomed brown hair that fell in a playful flop over his forehead, and wore a stunning outfit of reds, golds, and purples – all very royal, expensive colors.

And he was _tall_.

_That’s new for me,_ Zelda thought cynically as her eyes dragged over the suitor before her.

Kara, a nervous girl who was supposed to act as some sort of administrative assistant for the Counsel, bowed clumsily, her frail arm extended to present him. “Your majesty, I present to you Sir Valen. His lineage can be traced directly back to the late Dutchess of Akkala.”

Despite the civilization-ending effects of the Calamity Ganon, Royal identity stayed strong in many of its surviving members, and thanks to the recovery of the _Hyrule Historia_ , an ancient tome which included the family lines of every Hylian of Royal descent from Hyrule’s inception until the Calamity, it became fairly easy for the Counsel to verify.

Zelda straightened her back and lifted her chin in a way that she hoped looked very regal. She’d always lacked the grandiose majesty that her father exuded, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

“Greetings, my dear Sir Valen. What brings you to my humble kingdom?”

She knew exactly what brought him here, but she found the way they tended to answer this question very telling.

Sir Valen flashed a polite smile. “If I may be perfectly honest, my mother has been quite insistent these past few years on me stopping this ‘bachelor lifestyle’ –her words—and on me finding a suitable wife in order to legitimize our family’s heritage. She’s sent me a bevy of suitors –much like you’ve been—but I’ve found them all…oh, I don’t know…”

“…Lacking…?” Zelda offered.

“Lacking,” Valen confirmed. “They were all very much concerned with decorum and pomp and social ascension, and it was…well, it was _boring.”_

Zelda leaned forward in her throne with an amused smile at her lips. What an interesting fellow this one was turning out to be! It was as if he’d completely ignored any of the rigorous social training he had surely been raised with, and Zelda found herself liking it. She hadn’t been around a man so utterly unconcerned by the opinion of others since…

Well, she’d rather not think of him at this time.

“So, Sir Valen,” Zelda crossed her arms in front of her breast. “Why do you try your hand at courting me?” She was aware she was embarrassing her Council again, though they were probably doubly embarrassed by this wonderful creature they’d offered her.

Good.

Let them feel discomfort until their insides shriveled up inside of them, for forcing her through this nonsense while the Yiga were steadily growing their influence and numbers. They seemed painfully unconcerned with the fact that their army was a mere shadow of when it had been headed by…him.

They should also feel discomfort for what happened with _him_ as well.

“Well,” Valen’s hazel eyes grew with concern. “It’s…I do hope my answer won’t offend you, dear Princess…”

“Oh, don’t you worry about offending _me,_ good sir!” Zelda said, a mischievousness to her voice that she could feel caused her Counsel to fidget in their seats.

Assured by her words, Valen continued. “I’d heard of your exploits for quite some time now. I’d heard that you were beautiful, of course. And I’d heard that you were a woman of science, which fascinates me and has my respect. But what intrigued me most was the complete lack of propriety with which you’ve rejected suitors. Challenging a Dauphin to a battle of wits, only to send him home with an elementary school textbook and a dunce hat? Genius!” He smacked a white-gloved fist into the palm of his hand for emphasis.

“In short,” he concluded, his eyes sparkling, “I knew I had to meet this woman. Even if I became the subject to one of her savage dressing-downs, it’d be a story for a lifetime.”

Zelda nodded slowly, her eyebrows raised and an impressed frown tugging at her lips.

“Valen…tell me, do you like horses?”

Valen perked up, both surprised and excited by the drop in formality. “Oh, certainly!”

She stood up from her throne and approached him head on before swiveling to stand beside him, her head cocked to the side and a playful smile at her lips. “Well then, what would you say to taking a ride with me around Hyrule Field?

Valen’s face brightened. “I’d love to!”

After an hour of letting their horses gallop freely, Zelda slowed her horse to a canter around Irch Plain. Silent Princess flowers were in full bloom, their loose blossoms swirling in the breeze around her like snow.

She hopped off her horse to kneel among them, like she had done over 100 years ago with another man.

Valen followed her lead but kept a respectable distance.

“Valen…are you aware of the Yiga clan in your province?”

Without skipping a bit, he replied, “Yes. I heard about the slaughter of the Akkala Citadel. It’s an absolute horror. I realize that soldiers pledge their lives to the kingdom for very moments like that, but…they--” He cleared his throat to keep the emotion out of his voice. “—They didn’t deserve that.”

Zelda swallowed hard, doing her best to keep her eyes dry as she continued to stare into the swaying flowers.

After being reclaimed and restored shortly after the Calamity, a sentinel of young knights were sent to occupy the Akkala Citadel. Being a fairly quiet province, and as the Citadel itself was naturally very difficult to lay siege upon, it appeared to be the perfect place to send the inexperienced knights who had just passed their training.

 This apparently made it a perfect target for the worst massacre of Hylian lives since the Calamity. A Rito messenger had burst into the main hall, wailing for immediate Audience with the Princess. It took a while to calm the trembling young Rito down, but when he was finally able to speak, he told a horror story of a wave of red-clad warriors appearing suddenly in a puff of red smoke and confetti in the middle of the night, slowly carving off the limbs of some, quickly dispatching others. Despite the best efforts of the young knights and their commanding officers, they had been caught off-guard, and were too inexperienced to mount an effective defense. Soon, rivulets of blood ran through the cobblestone paths of the Citadel, and a few hundred were left alive, in shock by the sudden and confounding wave of brutality that had just befallen them.

_This wouldn’t have happened had he stayed._ The realization had forced its way into Zelda’s mind, magnifying her pain.

“They didn’t deserve it at all,” Zelda agreed. “Their deaths were a painful wake-up call that the Hylian Army is not equipped to deal with the mounting threat that the Yiga Clan poses.”

A pregnant silence fell between them. They both knew what the solution implied.

Valen opened his mouth and drew in a breath before daring to speak his next words. “Is recruiting your former Head General an option?”

Despite herself, a rueful smile played at her lips.

“That’s my plan. We just need to find him.”

Tentatively, Valen pressed. “…despite what happened between you two?”

Zelda’s gaze snapped up to Valen, her green eyes wide in shock. “And what do you think happened between us?”

Valen resisted the desire to reel back. “Well, of course there were the rumors that you two…became something like lovers, and scandalized the entire castle. And that one night he just…disappeared, after some sort of judgement from your Counsel.” He added quickly, “But of course, those are just what the gossip mongers say. I’m sure whatever caused him to abandon his post was much more boring in reality, and that you two had a perfectly professional relationship.”

She didn’t know whether to be shocked, outraged, or delighted. In honesty she was a bit of all three.

Worried by Zelda’s stunned silence, Valen raked his hair back nervously. “Forgive me, I’ve overstepped your boundaries. I’ve always had a terrible habit of opening my mouth before giving much thought as to what would come out of it.”

An amused smile spread over Zelda’s face until it erupted in an unlady-like snort (an unfortunate habit that had gotten her scolded numerous times by her caretakers in her childhood, and which she still had).

“You know…to be honest, while a bit shocking, it’s actually quite the relief. It’s a rare soul that dares to be so unrestrained around me.” _And an even rarer soul with whom I feel I can be unrestrained with,_ she added silently.

Valen exhaled slowly in relief. “Still. I’ll try to…tone it down a bit. At least until we get to know each other a little better.”

Zelda met his hopeful smile and returned it with one of her own. “Sounds like a plan.”

* * *

 

It was barely past noon when school let out for the day for an impromptu holiday. The sky was a cheery blue and the sea murmured a lazy invitation, which most of the children were eager to accept.

With a promise to meet Malia at the beach as soon as she dropped her stuff off, Lola ran home, eager to not waste the day indoors.

The palapas was empty, which didn’t surprise her – if her father could be doing literally anything besides standing still indoors, he would – but two generous pieces of nutcake with a funny-looking drawing of a creature her father had once described to her as a ‘korok’ with a little heart sat on the dining room table.

She smiled to herself, scribbled back a small drawing of herself as happy and round, scooped up both pieces of cake, and ran out the door.

She was already stuffing the remainder of her piece of cake in her mouth by the time she reached Malia, who had been sitting contemplatively on the beach, allowing the clear water to lap at her feet.

Mouth still full, she handed Malia her piece of cake before plopping down beside her.

“What’cha thinking about?” Lola asked after having finally swallowed enough cake to speak.

Malia shrugged, not looking up. “I dunno…I was kinda wondering, do you wish you knew your mom, or are you like…happy with only having a dad?”

Taken off-guard by her friend’s question, Lola laughed nervously. “Um…yeah I guess? Of course I wish I knew my mom, but like…what do you mean?”

“Like if you could make it so your mom and your dad were together and raised you as a real family, would you?” Malia leaned back on her elbows in the sand and looked up at Lola with earnest eyes.

Lola dug her fingers in the wet sand, wriggling them until they sunk to her wrists and shrugged. “I mean, I love my dad a lot and I think he does a really good job, but we’re like…really different from each other. And like, sometimes I wonder if my mom was more like me, and what it would be like if we could do mom and daughter stuff together.”

Malia nodded slowly. “Okay. But what if you got your wish to meet your mom, and it turned out she was the exact opposite that you thought? Like you were expecting her to be cool and smart and nice but it turns out she was really shallow and vain and mean? And then you couldn’t escape from her because now your dad and your mom are in love and he won’t listen to you anymore?”

“Oh…” Lola breathed, her eyebrows furrowing with understanding. “Is this about your dad?”

A menacing shadow loomed over them as Malia was about to respond.

“Ha, we knew we’d find you here.”

The two girls looked up to the source of the shadow to find a beautiful girl who they knew was their age but looked a few years older, flanked by another taller and less stunning girl and a boy a couple of years their senior.

Malia’s face paled into a grim expression, while Lola’s eyes widened in surprise.

“What do you want, Jazz?” Malia asked cautiously with a hint of suspicion.

Jazz ignored Malia, holding her long-lashed stare on Lola. “Is it true you went to Palmorae Beach yesterday?”

Malia looked to her friend with bated breath.

“Yeah…?” Lola replied, her brows drawn together in confusion.

Something flashed in Jazz’ dark eyes while her entourage exchanged excited glances.

“You think you could take us? We heard there were some ruins that use some sort of ancient black sorcery and we wanted to check it out.” She tilted her head tilted girlishly, her rosebud lips drawn into a guiling smile.

“Uh –“ Lola’s eyes shifted to Malia, who looked back at her with a mixture of alarm and admonishment.

Lola inhaled deeply. “I-I don’t think I can. I got in big trouble for it last night and I’m pretty sure my dad would literally kill me if I tried it again. Apparently it’s super dangerous over there.”

Jazz scowled at her, unimpressed with her answer. “Wow, I was actually starting to think you were kinda cool, but I guess not.” With an annoyed “tch”, she gestured to her small entourage to follow her. “C’mon, you all were right. She _is_ as lame as you thought. I was wrong.”

Her words hit Lola like an electric shock through her chest, and she fought back the sting that was developing behind her eyes and nose.

“Wait,” she rose to her feet, her hands still caked with the sand they had been buried in.

Jazz stopped, barely suppressing a smile.

Malia seized her friend’s arm in a desperate grip and stared at her in disbelief and trepidation.

Shaking off Malia’s grasp, Lola continued, her words filled with a forced confidence. “I guess I can just lead you guys there, but we won’t go all the way and—“

“That’s awesome! See guys, I _told_ you she was different!” Jazz clapped her hands in delight, a dazzling grin having replaced any of the disgust that were present on her features just before. She leaned into Lola conspiratorially. “They think that just because you’re kinda strange and aren’t all that pretty, you’re really boring and lame. I would always tell them that I disagree – you hang out with that boring cow who kinda holds you back, but you’re actually really cool by yourself.”

A warm, fluttery feeling rose in Lola’s chest overriding the undercurrent of cold guilt, and she couldn’t help the smile that surfaced.

They made their way along the shoreline towards Palmorae Beach, Lola leading with Malia at her heels, and the remaining group of three a few paces behind.

Malia jogged to match Lola’s pace. “Why are you doing this?” she hissed, keeping her voice low enough so that the others couldn’t hear. “Jazz has always been a huge bitch. Plus your dad will freaking _murder you_ if he finds out about this.”

Lola didn’t slow her stride. “Then he won’t find out,” she said simply. “Besides, you don’t have to come, you know. You can go home if you’re not comfortable.”

Malia scoffed. “You’re being really dumb right now, you know.”

Lola continued ahead, her jaw set.

“Remember when Jazz chopped off all your hair? You had such pretty long hair, and that dumb bitch and her minions lured you into a room and chopped it all off. You cried for 3 days straight, but for some stupid reason you lied to your dad and told him you cut it yourself.”

“Shut up, Malia.”

But Malia didn’t shut up. She went on, her voice no longer a whisper. “And now you’re so desperate to impress her, goddess knows why, that you’re willing to risk yourself to make her happy. You think she’ll like you after this? She’ll never like you, Lola. She’s _using_ you and you’re so dumb you’re playing right into it—“

_“I said SHUT UP!”_

The next few seconds – perhaps they were minutes—were a blur, but Lola remembered the blood curdling scream of her friend, and a flash of green.


	3. Chapter 3

Link was never the type of person to contemplate his actions. He operated by intuition first and foremost and rarely questioned it.

So when he felt the familiar pang of dread blossom in his stomach, he immediately abandoned his mission of collecting Summerwing butterflies at the base of Mount Dunsel and rushed down to Gogobi Shores.

He was greeted by pandemonium. Several villagers were shouting and throwing everything they could – chests, wooden stakes, rocks— at something in the waters just off of Soka Point.

“What’s going on?” He demanded an elderly man who was surveying the spectacle with something like detached sadness.

The man regarded Link with watery eyes that were greyed with age. “Seems like a group of kids were trying to make it to Palmorae beach when a Lizalfos grabbed one of the girls and dragged her into the water. Reckon she’s still alive for the moment, but she won’t make it for much longer if one of these useless sons of bitches don’t grow some balls.”

Cold panic rose like bile into his throat, and for a second, Link feared he would throw up. Without saying another word to the old man, he pushed his way to the front of the crowd, where he saw a pale-faced Lola surrounded with a few other kids her age he didn’t know, staring in horror towards the sea.

A brief wave of relief washed over him then, so powerful that he felt he could have cried. It was short lived, however, when he got a good look at exactly what was happening.

Several yards out into the water, a green Lizalfos was dragging Malia slowly but steadily towards its camp, where more Lizalfos of varying colors bounced excitedly for the arrival of their prey.  It was at this point that he became aware of the heart-wrenching wails of Kiana, who was being restrained by her oldest son.

Further out into the jetty, he saw a group of terrified looking men trying in vain to mount a raft with an assortment of fishing harpoons, seemingly paralyzed between the desire to save the girl, and the fear of drawing the Lizalfos’ wrath.  He rushed forward while stripping to his undergarments, impervious to any feelings of self-consciousness.

He snatched a harpoon out of the hands of one of the men and jumped onto the raft, the force of his weight driving it out to sea as the men stared at him gape-mouthed, too shocked to act.

Luckily, there was an oar lying on the raft, which he used to furiously paddle towards the Lizalfos clutching Malia. He was close enough now to see that she appeared unconscious, though her head remained above water, and she was bleeding profusely from somewhere –her leg?

Grabbing the harpoon, he launched himself high in the air ( _at least that pompous bird was good for one thing)_ and threw it like a lance.

The harpoon impaled the Lizalfos clean through its head, killing it instantly. As soon as its clawed grip released Malia, she seemingly sprang to life and began paddling her arms furiously to keep herself afloat.

 _Ah, so she was playing dead. Smart._ After climbing back on the raft, Link paddled it close enough to pull the sputtering girl aboard.

Malia was breathing heavily from pain and shock, but her eyes appeared surprisingly lucid. A good sign. His eyes drifted to the gash in her leg, which was not quite deep enough to expose bone but ragged and a prime candidate for infection.

Not far from their raft, the Lizalfos were croaking angrily, taking up the various weapons they had in preparation for a fight.

“Try not to move,” Link said, to which Malia nodded weakly.

With that he dove off the raft into the water, dashing towards the den as quickly as he could muster. He was unarmed, almost nude, and outnumbered about five to one, but he’d had worse odds.

He made it to the shoddily-constructed wooden and bone structure just as two more green Lizalfos charged him. He slipped under their attack and ended up behind them, buying himself enough time to snatch one of the unused tri-tipped boomerangs that were typical of Lizalfos weapon construction. Pirouetting like a dancer, he threw it in a wide arc, decapitating the two monsters that had attempted to attack him.

Of course, they were the weakest of the den, so the remaining three – a red one, a blue one, and a silver one with grey-blue stripes—wouldn’t be so easily dispatched.

Luckily for him, one of the felled green ones had been holding a halberd, which Link eagerly tossed aside his boomerang for.

The red and blue Lizalfos flanked him while their white striped comrade eyed him warily from atop its perch, bouncing from foot to foot. 

Link stood still, twirling his weapon anxiously as he waited for the first strike.  It was the red one who made it first – an overhead swing with a short sword.

Link’s body thrummed with adrenaline, goosebumps prickling his exposed skin. Everything around him appeared to slow to a crawl, and he ducked under the monster’s attack with ease before unleashing a barrage of stabs, shredding its scaly hide until it hung in ribbons. The blue Lizalfos, who had been attempting to flank him, didn’t have time to land its attack before Link thrust the halberd backwards through its chest.

Now only the stripped one remained.  It observed him with cold, lizard-like eyes, seemingly hesitant to launch into a blind attack like its companions. Link was winded from the effort it had taken to make it to this point, and hoped that their impasse could last long enough for him to catch his breath.

Not so.

Almost without warning, it leapt high into the air above him, meaning to crush him with the force of its fall. Link flipped backwards to avoid what would have been certain death, but lost his balance on the landing and stumbled to his knee.

He felt a burst of searing pain as the Lizalfos claws raked across his left breast in what he knew was an effort to rip through his ribcage to his heart. He spun clumsily away from it so that it remained a surface wound, but was shaken by its attempt all the same.

The creature leapt backwards away from him and shrieked in frustration. Link used the precious moments its temper tantrum bought him to gather his bearings.

His knee ached where he had banged it on his botched landing, and he was pretty sure he’d removed a few layers of skin in the process. His chest throbbed from the claw wound which was bleeding freely now, his lungs burned, his muscles trembled with exertion, and he tasted the salty bitterness of sea water he had swallowed getting there.

He never felt more alive.

He wound up his body and sprang at the creature before it had a chance to react, swinging his halberd in a diagonal arc. The force of the blow knocked it off its feet, landing hard on the rocky alcove a few feet below. It lay for a moment, stunned.

Positioning himself above it, Link leapt down onto its fallen form, bringing the halberd down with him with the full force of his weight.

The creature was nearly cleaved in two. It opened its jaws in an attempt to scream but could muster no sound, then settled fitfully back.

He left the halberd wedged in the rock through the fallen Lizalfos and swam back to the raft, where Malia regarded him slack jawed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, once he had lifted himself aboard and caught his breath.

Malia seemed too stunned to reply, but Link could see that while she still appeared perfectly coherent, she was ashen with pain.

The gash in her leg had stopped bleeding for the moment, but the flesh had been torn horribly, and was beginning to develop a purple halo – a warning sign for infection.

Link glanced back to the shore, where it seemed the whole village stood, watching. He hoped they wouldn’t be able to see what he was about to do.

He positioned his hands a few inches away from her wound, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes.

Malia could hear him whispering as if to himself, but she couldn’t tell what he was saying, or even what language he was saying it in.

A warmth seemed to radiate from his hands, and she watched with amazement as they seemed to glow with some sort of spectral light.

Finally, the glow and the warmth subsided, and his eyes fluttered open, as if he were coming out of a trance.

Her wound was gone.

There was only a ragged pink scar where the gash had been, and the dull phantom ache of the memory of her pain.

For the first time, she noticed the seemingly countless tracks of scars that marred his body. Some were more subtle and faded white with age, but there were others – like the one that seemed to bisect his torso down to his rippled stomach, or his left arm that was inflamed and pink or sometimes a dull purple, the skin either puffed and puckered or unnaturally smooth and raw, like a polished stone.  

Curiously, mostly obscured by his undershorts, she also noticed the hint of something bright blue near his right hip. A tattoo…?

“What…are you…?” she breathed, the question almost unintentionally spoken aloud.

He regarded her for a moment with an expression she couldn’t read, then turned his back to her and began paddling their raft to shore.

She let the strained silence settle, punctuated only by the soft rolling of waves or the occasional cry of a gull, before opening her mouth to speak.

“This wasn’t her fault,” Malia said quietly. She saw Link tense slightly, but other than that he gave no indication that he had heard her.

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “She didn’t want to disobey you. There was this group from our school that have been…really horrible to her this year. I mean, they were always bad, but…this year was awful for her. They…they insisted that she take them, and I followed. I know it’s not an excuse, but-but she would have never done it otherwise.”

Link stopped paddling and looked down at the oar in his lap, allowing the waves to pull them slightly back.

“Thanks for letting me know, Malia. You should get some rest.”

Several of the male villagers waded into the water to help pull the raft to shore once they got close enough, and the entire village erupted, shaken from its silent spell.

Kiana, free from her son’s hold, gathered Malia in her arms, sobbing as she pressed her forehead against that of her daughter’s.

A small crowd gathered around Link, some staring in reverence while others clapped him jovially on his back.

Kiana calmed down enough to speak. “Are you hurt?” She asked, feverishly inspecting her daughter for any injuries.

Malia locked eyes with Link with an expression of curiosity and suspicion. “No...”

Wiping the rest of her tears from her face, Kiana pushed past the ring of admirers and crushed Link against her bosom. “I don’t know how I could ever truly thank you for what you’ve done.  If you hadn’t been there she’d be—“ she choked on her next words, as if the simple thought of them were too painful to give form to.

Link grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled away, offering her a timid smile. “C’mon, now. What kind of person would I be if stood by and let a child get killed? My own daughter’s best friend, no less.”

Kiana regarded him seriously, eyes still glassy with the threat of tears.

 “A regular man.”

* * *

 

Lola sat on her bed with the shades drawn, digging her fingernails into her forearms.  She was a terrible, stupid girl. Everything had happened so quickly—she had gotten into a fight with Malia ( _she was right, your_ dad _was right, but you didn’t listen. You were stupid and it’s all your fault)_ , and they had unwittingly stumbled too close to a camouflaged Lizalfos.

The cold, dank feeling of hopelessness as she watched her friend, screaming, get dragged away would haunt her for a long time.

So would the guilt that grasped her during the split second she and her father had locked eyes, and in them she saw not anger or fury, but disappointment and _hurt._

When her father leapt on to the raft to go after her friend, she remembered the way her stomach seized up, and the terrible thought that _this would be the last time you see him. He’ll be killed trying in vain to save your friend. They both will die blaming you and they’ll be right because it is ALL YOUR –_

The closing of a wooden door gave her a start. A different type of panic rose to her throat when she realized her father had returned.

She heard his footsteps disappear into the bathing room, which was an annex to the back of the house.

It could have been five minutes or five hours later when she heard him emerge, the rhythmic _pat-pat_ of his footfalls almost solemn.

He seemingly paused before her door. After a moment, a widening crack of light spilled into her room.

“’S dark in here…” she heard him mumble.

Lola dug her fingernails a little deeper into her forearms and screwed her eyes shut against the light. She was bad, bad, bad, and she didn’t need to face the consequences of how bad she was by her father. She was already facing enough punishment from herself.

“Mind if I open the window? Just a little.” He spoke gently, as if to a wild animal that would flee at any moment.

Lola hugged herself a little tighter into a ball, her eyes now open but downcast.

Link took this as compliance, and made his way around her bed to pull up the blinds and expose some the room to the fading sunlight.

He gasped. “Lola, don’t do that!”

He pulled her hands away from where they dug in her skin, leaving behind little crescent-shaped indentions –some of which were filled with red.

Lola buried her face in her knees.

“Hey. _Hey._ I’m not mad at you.”

She looked up at him tentatively. His wild, chest-length hair was still wet and hung loosely about his shoulders and face. The water dripping off of it made the white shirt he was wearing slightly transparent, where she could clearly see the bandages on his chest that were already soaking through with blood.

Noticing where her eyes went, he waved a distracting hand to disrupt her line of sight.

“Look, as far as I’m concerned, you’ve learned your lesson better than from any punishment I could have given you.”

She shrank further.

His voice softened again. “Why didn’t you tell me you were being bullied?”

Lola straightened up in shock. How did he…did Jazz or one of her friends admit it to him? Unlikely. Then…Malia…?

Shame radiated from deep within her chest to her face. Her father looked at her expectantly, his brows furrowed with concern.

She shrugged, and began to occupy herself with picking at an errant thread in her quilt. “I don’t know…” she replied weakly.

“Do you…have I made you feel like you can’t share these things with me?”

Lola picked at the quilt with increased vigor. Why hadn’t she told him? Perhaps because it was embarrassing, or she had a hard enough time admitting to herself what was happening…?

Link looked at her solemnly. She felt like she would burst with the guilt, shame, sadness, and anger at herself that pushed against her chest.

“Lolita.”

Despite her discomfort, she met his eyes.

“What happened today was…unfortunate. You learned a very valuable lesson, and I know that from here on out you’ll take it seriously. Sometimes, we make a decision that seems reasonable at the time, or worth the risk. Perhaps it even feels like the best thing to do given the situation.”

He drew a breath and exhaled it slowly, as if drawing the strength to continue speaking.

“And sometimes, that decision has horrible consequences. People get hurt, loved ones are lost, or the natural course of a life is permanently altered. You have to learn to be able to accept these consequences. You make the amends that you can – if you can – and you learn to live with it. Even if no one else will forgive you, you must learn to eventually forgive yourself.”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore; his gaze was somewhere beyond anything in her room. Lola felt herself relaxing slightly, letting go of the tension that she had been holding earlier.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what was happening,” she said. “I was…embarrassed, I guess. And I was worried you’d…do something.”

Having pulled himself out of his trance, he offered her a lop-sided smile, eyes sparkling mischievously. “ _Do_ something? Me? Never…”

Lola pulled back, horrified. “Dad, _please._ I’m serious, just leave it alone.”

He waved her off dismissively. “Fear not, Lulu. I’m a bastion of maturity and innocence, after all. I wouldn’t _dream_ of meddling in the affairs of twelve-year-olds. ”

She looked stared at him in desperate frustration.

Her father sighed and absentmindedly piled his damp hair in a messy bun. “You can trust me, you know. I promise, if you don’t want me to do anything about it, I won’t. I might be a tad mischievous, but I’m not deceitful. And I _certainly_ wouldn’t do something that would knowingly hurt you for my own satisfaction.”

This seemed to convince her, because she visibly relaxed. “I’m going to see how Malia’s doing.”

He smiled his assent, and she hopped off the bed to see her friend.

After she left, a small nibble of guilt bubbled inside of him. _Wouldn’t do something to knowingly hurt her? For satisfaction, of course not. But what about for the sake of convenience? Just because she doesn’t know to be hurt about it yet doesn’t mean she won’t be._

 

* * *

 

Zelda always hated balls.

Vapid women dressed like multi-tiered cream puffs prancing around, hoping to catch the eye of equally vapid men whose outfits were the most remarkable thing about them…she’d much rather be reading  in her library wearing a comfortable pair of slacks and a blouse.

Shortly after the castle had been rendered habitable by Bolson and his (now sizeable) crew, the Counsel had insisted on throwing monthly balls for the first two years of her reign. Though it was a hefty investment, they told her that they were necessary to legitimize herself to neighboring kingdoms, network, and show her people that Hyrule was once again returning to its former glory.

She must appear stable and in line with the traditions of her father’s reign – too much “newness” would be sure to provoke a revolt, or make it more difficult for the remaining nobles to adhere to her.

Perhaps they had been right. After all, for the citizens of Zora’s domain, 100 years was akin to a simple decade.  It was difficult enough to establish herself as a worthy ruler – she was the young (looking), bookish daughter of a failed kingdom. People scrutinized her every move. Her Counsel knew this, and did their best to assure that she appeared as Queenly and legitimate as possible.

This ball was to celebrate her acceptance of a suitor. He could now begin courting her, which would then possibly lead to marriage.

 _In their dreams,_ Zelda thought, disdainful of the prospect. However, her Counsel had been positively floored when she had accepted Valen’s courtship, and at least this meant that she’d no longer be bothered with suitors. She could direct their attention to the subject that somehow didn’t seem to particularly interest them, but struck her with a deep sense of dread.

_Yiga._

Zelda watched the dancing crowd passively, occasionally sipping her flute of champagne.

“You don’t look like you’re particularly enjoying yourself, Your Highness.”

She looked up lazily at Valen, who regarded her with a knowing smile as he sipped a Noble Pursuit.

“Humpf. Now what would make you say that? Don’t you enjoy watching over-fed, overly pampered fops glide drunkenly around each other?”

Valen took her champagne flute as she was about to sip it and replaced it with a Noble Pursuit of her own. “I find these sorts of affairs easier to bear with a little bit of _help_.”

Zelda looked at him accusingly, but accepted the glass none-the-less. “Don’t you dare think you’ll get me drunk enough to sleep with you. Despite the rumors I’m not the type of woman who’s wont to give away her body so frivolously.”

His eyes widened. “I wouldn’t dare, Your Highness! I was rather thinking of a different kind of fun –the immature kind, where we get acceptably inebriated and gossip rudely about all of these overstuffed dandies surrounding us.”

A sly smile crept across her lips. “That certainly does sound more like something I’d be wont to do. Just give me a bit of time to…shall we say, prepare.”

Valen raised his glass to her while Zelda finished her own and went in search of another.

Suddenly, she was struck by a dizzying wave of nostalgia.

She was transported to over ten years ago in this very ball room. She was (physically) twenty years old, had just given birth a few months prior, and was desperately trying to hide that the fact that she wasn’t drinking alcohol.

She felt like she was about to faint. This was the first official ball inaugurating the restoration of the Crown, and she could barely keep herself up for more than an hour at a time.

_What rotten timing to have had a secret baby…_

“Your Highness, are you alright? You look so pale!” One of the noblewomen  --she couldn’t keep up with them all –held a gloved hand in front of her mouth in a theatrical display of shock and concern. However, Zelda noticed, it wasn’t without a small amount of suspicion and interest.

Suddenly, she felt a steadying hand on the small of her back.

“Thank you for your concern, milady, but I’ll be escorting Her Majesty to her table. It appears she is still weak from her…rather unfortunate reaction to today’s lunch.”

Zelda spun around to see Link, dressed in the decorative armor that identified him as the Captain General and her personal Knight.

She would never stop being flustered by his attractiveness, she decided –especially when he looked every bit the part of a divine Royal soldier in his current costume – almost too pretty to touch.

Too bad he consistently insisted on rejecting any amount of decorum for reasons she…honestly wasn’t sure of. He seemed to enjoy making stuffy people uncomfortable, quite simply.

“I appreciate you bailing me out of that situation, but did you _have_ to embarrass me in doing so?” she hissed as he led her back to her table.

He shot her a puerile grin. “It made you relatable.”

Zelda scoffed. “Relatable…some way to do it! Besides, that – that’s the last thing I need to be right now.” She sighed. “Anyway, how is she?”

“Asleep with Lady Impa and her granddaughter.”

“She didn’t make too much of a fuss?”

He shook his head.

She gave a weary sigh. “I hate that I have to be away from her. She _needs_ me and here I am stuck entertaining uptight self-important peacocks at this blasted party.”

Link frowned empathetically.

“Hmm. You know what? I think I’ll take a few months in Kakariko Village to discuss important matters with Lady Impa.  I understand that the Counsel feels I need to keep this a secret at all costs, but they certainly have no grounds to refuse me a useful political trip.”

With that, Zelda straightened her back, her excitement giving her a second wind of energy. “Come, Link. We leave tonight.  Jericho? Tell the Counsel I shall be away in Kakariko Village for the next four months to restore Hylian-Sheikah diplomacy. ”

A respectful touch on her shoulder brought her back to present times, almost causing her to spill her drink.

“Oh, apologies my dear Zelda! I didn’t mean to startle you…It’s just that I have some news to share.”

Kass towered above her, looking both very apologetic and very eager to tell her something.

Zelda raised her eyebrows. “Well? Don’t keep me in suspense!”

Kass’ honey colored eyes twinkled. “They’ve found him. The Hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we have it, the third chapter! Hope you enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

Link sat in an armchair with the shades drawn, pouring himself a third glass of wine. Normally, this behavior was the very opposite of what he’d typically be doing; after all, he wasn’t much of a drinker, and he usually loathed both inactivity and being indoors for too long.

Right now, though, he was desperate to be alone. For the past week, the entirety of Lurelin village hadn’t ceased to seek his attention. His feat of rescuing Malia and exterminating an entire den of Lizalfos had made him somewhat of a local celebrity. Coupled with the rumors that had begun to circulate of him being some sort of demi-god ( _He_ flew _, Jedd, I swear on the Goddess herself, he launched himself into the air and_ flew!), well…

He had worked very hard since he’d arrived to make himself seem as unremarkable as possible. He'd claimed to be a former member of Hateno’s village rag-tag militia, whose wife had been offered the position of a lifetime in the Castle and had to make an unfortunate choice to leave her family behind. Even Lola believed it.  It wasn’t a complete fabrication…but any semblance of truth in it had been heavily slanted.

After the events of last week, however, people were starting to suspect there was more to his story.

It was looking like soon, they’d have no choice but to leave; move somewhere where they could be nameless travelers once again.

Someone gave a sharp knock at the door. Link cursed quietly and pulled himself up. The room around him dipped and distorted, and he realized he was drunk.

He also wasn’t wearing any clothes –well, aside from his undershorts—but he was two glasses of wine and a week of over-socialization past caring about that.

He threw open the door, hoping his disheveled and much underdressed state would speak for him.

“Hey there, stranger—long time no see! Damn dude, looks like you’ve been working out! Am I…interrupting something?” A large bearded man around Link’s age, dressed in the unmistakable colors and motifs of the Royal Hylian Army grinned at him from the other side of the door.

_Shit._

Link forced himself out of his shock and stepped aside. “Get inside before anyone sees you. _Now.”_

The Royal knight cheerfully accepted the invitation.

Once inside, Link stared at the man with surprise and a hint of contempt.

“Cozy place you’ve got here,” the knight said, willfully ignoring Link’s icy stare. “I was thinking about renting one of these babies for a vacation with the family this summer, but was kind of on the fence about the price—“

“Why are you here, Bohr?” Link interrupted, his voice exasperated.

Bohr shot a gauntleted hand to his chest in feigned abjection. “Why, has it ever occurred to you that I missed my dear ex-Captain? I’d been wondering where you had run off to for the past decade, and when I caught wind of some very peculiar rumors less than a week ago, I knew I had to make it here as soon as possible!”

Link gave an apathetic hum of acknowledgement. “So why are you dressed like that? Doesn’t look like a very personal visit to me.”

Bohr burst out in good-natured laughter. “Ah, Link. I’d almost forgotten what a shrewd, sassy little bitch you were.  What’s the rush? I’ll tell you the true nature of my visit very soon, but first how about you be a dear and fetch me a glass of whatever you’re drinking? I’m terribly thirsty.” He plopped down in one of the pillowed, wicker loveseats that decorated the living room.

Link stared at him with a flat expression before sighing and going to pour a second glass of wine. “You break my chair, I’ll shove the remains up your cavernous ass.” Link murmured as he handed Bohr his glass of wine and took a seat opposite of him.

“Oh, come now—don’t be mean just because you’re over thirty years old and still can’t reach most countertops.”

Link scoffed. “Bohr, you _especially_ should know better than making fun of someone for their small size.”

Bohr roared in laughter. “Seriously, Link. I’ve missed you. The Royal Army hasn’t been the same since you left.  If you saw the pussies they have now…an entire battalion of them couldn’t take on a red-maned Lynel.”

Link pursed his lips in doubt.

“Honestly! And…well, you heard about the massacre in Akkala?”

Massacre? Link remained outwardly stoic, but inside he was reeling. A massacre in Akkala?

Bohr correctly read Link’s reaction as surprise. “Two-hundred and sixty seven young soldiers, Link. You heard me? _Two-hundred and sixty seven._ In what was supposed to be the best-fortified military post in Hyrule.  No one, outside of the Calamity’s own forces, should have been able to breach it. And…goddess, Link…I’ll spare you the details, but they didn’t die quickly.”

Link took a slow sip of his wine, conscious to hide the low tremors of emotion rousing inside of him.

“We think it was Yiga,” Bohr continued. He couldn’t tell, but he hoped that his former Captain still had the passion and empathy of his youth to be moved by the situation.

Giving another disaffected hum, Link pretended to take an interest in his wine glass, rotating it carefully in his hand. “Why?”

Bohr kept himself from smiling in victory. If Link had truly been disinterested, he would have simply disengaged from the conversation. If he was asking questions, then he had him on the line.

“Well, survivors' reports said they arrived in a puff of smoke and confetti, as if from thin air—“

“So? Lots of things can do that.”

“—And they were wearing Yiga clothes.”

Link’s eyelids lowered slightly, regarding his guest the way one would regard a child who had just told a very obvious lie. “Doesn’t sound like Yiga.”

Bohr lurched forward. “What do you mean, it doesn’t sound like Yiga? It sounds _exactly_ like Yiga!”

“No.” Link continued to look at Bohr with almost weary patience. “Yiga attack in limited numbers –rarely more than three at a time, and isolate their targets with surgical precision. They rely on subtlety and surprise, and their goals are something they can obtain quickly without being seen. They don’t just appear in large numbers at a military base to massacre equally large numbers of soldiers outside of their own territory. So not Yiga. Something that wants us to think it’s Yiga.”

Bohr seemed to contemplate this. “Well…at any rate, it has a lot of us at the Castle and other bases are quite worried. We’re not equipped to deal with this, Link.”

A rueful smile flickered across Link’s face, like a dying candlelight. He folded his arms across his bare chest. “And here we have it, the true nature of your visit.” He spoke very softly, almost purring.

“We _need_ you, Link. Ignoring the fact that you could very well take out an entire battalion of those not-Yiga bastards by yourself, we’re completely blind without you. Your strategic prowess and strength could be the difference between us stopping this once and for all, and a complete dismantling of what you and the Princess worked so hard to achieve.” Bohr’s chestnut brown eyes pleaded with Link’s impassive blue ones. “We’re offering you your old post back, Link. Captain General of the Princess Zelda's Personal Guard."

It sounded dramatic, but Bohr meant what he said. When he had first met Link, the tiny Hylian had struck him as…unassuming, to say the least. He was short –about the height of a tall woman—and slight of build. He was also _pretty_ , with large, thickly lashed blue eyes and a soft, almost sensual mouth. There was no way a fey-looking young man like him had managed to wield the fabled darkness-sealing sword and do away with the Calamity Ganon. Of course, it hadn’t taken long for Link to prove the prejudices against him unfounded. 

Link pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache. “Even if I were to accept your offer, I left on…not great terms with the Counsel and the Princess. I’m not certain she wouldn’t simply have me beheaded upon my return.”

 _Hmm, so perhaps there was something to the rumors…?_ Bohr pushed his curiosity aside. “I was sent by Princess Zelda herself, and you know that she doesn’t take any action that hasn’t been preapproved by the Counsel.”

Link shot a skeptical glare at Bohr. There was no way Zelda had sent for him –not after what he did. There was _especially_ no way that the Counsel had approved it.

Bohr pumped his hands to allay Link’s reaction. “Hey, don’t look at me like that—as much as I’d love to persuade you to accept, I wouldn’t lie about something like that. Princess Zelda and the Counsel have been desperately trying to find you for the better part of a year now.

A _year_? They’d been searching for him for the past _year_? His head was spinning. He couldn’t think. The alcohol already made things hazy enough—he certainly wasn’t equipped to deal with Bohr’s visit.

Sensing Link’s confusion, Bohr stood to place something on the stand beside Link’s chair. “Look, I know it’s a lot to think about, so I’ll tell you what—“

The sound of a door banging open interrupted him, and the two men turned toward the source of the sound.

“Uh…hello. Dad, who is this, and why… _why aren’t you wearing any clothes?!”_ Lola stood awkwardly in the door frame, her wild blonde hair decorated with a red scarf tied into a comical bow atop her head, and her eyes wide behind her glasses.

 _Shiiiiit_. Link shut his eyes, internally trying to reel back his frustration and panic. “Weren’t you supposed to be spending the night at Malia’s?” he asked in a carefully measured voice.

“Yeah, I am. I just forgot a few things.” She fidgeted uncomfortably, sensing she had walked into something she shouldn’t have.

Bohr looked from Lola to Link and back again with an incredulous smile. “Hey, little lady. I’m Bohr, an old friend of your old man’s. What’s your name?”

Lola’s eyes flicked to her father, who wore a grim expression, then back to the man, who wore what she knew was Knight’s armor—and an important one at that. How did her dad know a knight? Was he in trouble? Or maybe…maybe it had something to do with her mom? Hesitantly, she responded. “Lolita. But everyone calls me Lola.”

“That’s a beautiful name, Lola. And how old are you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see her father chewing his bottom lip nervously, but she didn’t know how else to respond. “I’m twelve…well, almost thirteen, but…yeah.”

Bohr nodded as if understanding something very profound, an incredulous smile static on his face.  “I see. Well, I suppose I shouldn’t be keeping you when your friend’s probably waiting for you. It was nice to meet you, Lola. I hope to see you again very soon.”

“N-nice to meet you, too…” Lola mumbled, gawkily scrambling away to get her things and leave as quickly as possible.

After she had left, Bohr turned back to Link, who levelled a challenging stare at him. A moment of uncomfortable silence passed before he cleared his throat to speak. “So as I was saying…I know you’ve uh, got a lot to consider. How’s about I come back in a week to get your answer?”

Link balked. “A _week?_ You’re asking me to make a life-changing decision within a _week?_ ”

Bohr shrugged. “I know it’s not a lot of time, but we’re desperate here. Besides,” he opened the door to leave. “Don’t act like you’re not one of the most spontaneous people I’ve ever known.”

With that, Bohr left, leaving Link once again alone. The object Bohr had placed beside him –an envelope with a blue wax seal, meaning it had come from the Princess herself—taunted him. Link worked up the courage to open it.

_To Whom It May Concern,_

_By Order of Princess Zelda Nohansen Hyrule Herself, let it be known that the Bearer of this Seal, Captain-General Link, family name unknown, has agreed to resume his post and is therefore granted unrestricted access to all grounds of the Castle, as well as the attentions of the Sovereign Leader Herself._

_Signed,_

_Princess Zelda Nohansen Hyrule_

Link read the words over and over, his hands trembling. Zelda likely hadn’t penned the letter herself; she had an officiant do so for her, under her direction. The wording of the letter was professional and distant, but it affirmed what Bohr had said. _Zelda wanted him back at the castle._

Of course, he very much doubted she would want him in the same …scope…as she had before his departure, and he was loathe to imagine the kind of reception he’d receive by not only her, but by his former comrades, who had surely viewed his leaving as abandonment. Most of all…how would the Counsel deal with the return of the very person they’d done everything to cast out?

He leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes against the storm of thoughts and emotions that raged inside of him. He hadn’t even considered the impact this would have on Lola, whose entire world would be uprooted to an existence that would be the very antithesis to what she lived here in Lurelin. Not to mention, she didn’t actually know the truth about who her mother was, or why they had ended up here on the opposite side of the continent from her. Would it even be safe for her to return?

He had a headache. This was too much, too soon. Still, however, a growing, persistent longing was emerging amongst the chaos Bohr’s visit had caused him.

_You’d be worth something, again._

Memories of his confrontation with the Lizalfoes had interrupted his thoughts constantly since the past week.

The rush of the threat of death, the feel of cold steel in his hands, even the pain of his tearing flesh…he was embarrassed to admit it to himself, but at one point of the fight he had been _aroused_  .  

It’s what he was meant for. And it’s what he would have, as much as he pleased, if he accepted the offer.

_You’re a weapon, after all. What use is a weapon without a war? They turn to rust and wither away._

* * *

 

 

Zelda sat on an outstretched blanket in her private courtyard, enjoying the gentle caress of the sun on her skin. She wore a light, loose dress that left her shoulders exposed, allowing her to lounge comfortably in the warm sunlight.

She had received Bohr’s confirmation that Link had accepted the proposal earlier that morning, and since then had trouble focusing on anything else.

He was coming back. And surely, he wouldn’t be alone. _She_ would be with him _…_

Lolita.

Her little girl.

Her mind wandered to what she thought of as one of the worst days of her life—aside from the day Hyrule fell: the day Link had left.

She still remembered the letter he had left her, placed delicately on her pillow.

_To the only woman I’ve ever loved,_

_I won’t ask you to forgive me for what I have just done, but none-the-less, I am sorry._

_I am so, so sorry._

_Though I’ve tried to ignore it, the events of this past month has made it clear to me that Lola and I are not safe here, and that you cannot protect us._

_I’m not blaming you for what has happened, nor do I consider it a blight on your character that you did not react in the way that I had initially hoped._

_You are the last remaining Sovereign of Hyrule after all, and as such, I realize you have an important duty to your kingdom that makes taking certain actions very complicated._

_However, I hope you also realize that Lola doesn’t need a Princess; she needs a mother, and the recent events have shown me that I can’t expect you to be both._

_I am first and foremost a father now, and as much as this is painful for me, it is as a father that I take this decision._

_By the time you read this, Lola and I are likely to be very far from the political clutches of the Castle. I plan to raise her somewhere she can grow up emancipated and unconcerned with her identity, rather than hidden in the shadows and clandestine._

_I want to give her a gift that neither of us were able to have: a life unburdened by duty or the weight of expectations. I want to give her a breath of the wild._

_If the Goddess wills it—and I hope with all my heart She does—perhaps someday you will be able to not only see what fruit our love has borne, but aid me in cultivating it. I’ve never been able to do it alone._

_Despite all of this, know that I love you, and will continue to love you whether or not it is requited._

_May we one day be reunited once again._

_With all of my love,_

_Link_

After sitting in a stunned silence with the letter in hand, she had urged a Rito messenger to check with Lady Impa if they were still in the care of their “ward”. The answer, of course, was that the child had been taken by an anonymous traveler late the previous night.

Now they would be reunited, but Zelda was troubled.  At the end of the day, the fact was that he had _kidnapped_ their child and disappeared in the middle of the night. She would never know a greater betrayal. Now, she’d have to face him, and she had no idea how she would feel or react.

 _One thing at a time_.

He had taught her that, funnily enough. She needed to stay firmly rooted in the present and avoid going down any mental rabbit holes, which would only bring anxiety. She had faced off with a catastrophic demonic entity for a century; surely, she could also confront the man she once loved who had hurt her in ways no one else ever could?

Honestly, she wasn’t so sure.


	5. Chapter 5

The strange carriage was large enough to fit up to four people snugly, though presently it only sat two.

Lola sat across from her father on one of the blue velvet benches, her legs tucked up underneath her.  It had been a week since he had informed her that he had received a proposal to go to the castle, and he had seemed surprised at her enthusiasm.

She admitted, she would be sad to leave the sleepy beachside village, and the thought of no longer being able to see her best friend everyday was unimaginable.  However, she was also curious. She’d always known she would one day leave Lurelin to discover the larger world. Her dream was to become a world-famous researcher; she wouldn’t be able to do that from the comfort of her secluded hometown. Besides, she could always visit Malia whenever there was the time.

Also, if she stayed, how would she ever meet her mother?

She watched the green countryside zip serenely by, dreaming of her family being reunited. Her father had always been vague about what her mother exactly _did_ in the castle, but she imagined it was very glamorous.

For all of Lola’s happy tranquility, however, Link was a ball of nervous energy. He hated sitting still for more than five minutes at a time, and he hated being confined; that alone made this carriage ride pure torture for him. Still, Lola noticed, there seemed to be more to it…

“So is this your new style or something?” he teased, attempting to pull at the pink scarf she had tied into a bow in her short hair.

Lola batted his hand away. “Quit it. You’re being annoying.”

Link crinkled his nose in a silent snicker, but retracted his hand, placing it in a fist under his chin. He regarded her curiously. “Life at the castle will be very different, you know,” he said quietly.

She rolled her eyes. “This is like the hundred-millionth time you’ve said that, dad.” Registering the concern in his eyes, she added more gently, “You don’t have to worry so much. I’m more adaptable than you think.”

He flashed a smile of acknowledgement, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Perhaps he had underestimated her. Just because she wasn’t adventurous in the way he understood the word didn’t mean she was against new experiences. Of course, it was also possible that her excitement was due partially to a naïve view she certainly held about life in the castle, and partially because of the half-truths he had told her regarding…well, everything.

_Half-truths? That’s generous. Try more like three-quarter lies._

He sighed and leaned back against the seat, drumming his fingertips on the windowsill.

_No point in stressing about the future. The best will be, and for the rest…I’ll make due._

With that thought, he forced all of his uncertainty and the emotions he couldn’t quite understand into the same dark corner of his mind they always went. A faint pressure remained, but he was once again calm.

He still was annoyed at being stuck in this stupid carriage though.

“Dad?”

Link snapped his attention to his daughter, who was sitting up straight in her seat, though her legs remained tucked underneath her. She’d have a lot to learn if she’d want to fit in with the stuffy mini-adults the nobles called children.

“Are you nervous about being a knight? Like, they heard about what you did with the Lizardfoes—“

“Liz _al_ foes,” he corrected.

“—Liz _al_ foes, and it impressed them so much that the Princess wants to make you a knight, but like…it’s pretty dangerous, isn’t it?” He sensed a touch of concern in her voice, and in her fists were the fabric of her loose shorts bunched up.

He smiled, this time much more warmly.  In her mind, he could have very nearly died when he leapt to save Malia. To her, after all, he had been simply a regular –albeit adventurous- traveler, who had learned just enough tricks with a sword to serve as a part time militiaman. “There’s a lot I haven’t told you, sweetheart. About your mother, but also about myself.  You’ll know more eventually, but…trust me, you don’t have to worry about me.”

She looked like she had more to say, but thought against it. She nodded, then directed her attention back to the window.

“Do you think she’ll recognize us?”

Link frowned in confusion for a second. “Ah…yes, I’m certain.”

“Do you still love her?”

The question caught Link off-guard.  Lola looked at him with the earnestness of a puppy.

“I…” he mouthed the words a few times, but no sound came out. He had no idea what to say. “I…I’ll always love her. She was my first _real_ love, and she gave me you. But…” he held eye contact with Lola, as if searching for the answer in her gaze. “In the end it was… complicated. I think the greater question is whether or not she still loves _me.”_

Lola puffed out her lower lip slightly to contemplate his words. Link, suddenly feeling he said too much, gave her a disarming grin. “Anyway, try not to worry about such things.  You’ve got a lot of exciting things ahead of you. Not all of them will be easy, but I’ll always be here for you when you need me.” He smoothed down a particularly wayward cowlick on her head, and this time she didn’t try to dodge his touch.

* * *

 

They had been traveling for the better part of a week, but finally the Castle loomed ahead, close enough to make out the colorful blotches that were its stained-glass windows. Zelda had ordered repaired the ones that could be salvaged, but had new ones honoring the fallen Champions in the places where they couldn't.

Normally, the journey would have taken as much as three weeks on horseback, but thanks to the carriage’s re-appropriation of ancient Sheikah technology, they weren’t confined to the gentle roads, and could easily top the speed of a horse’s gallop.

Lola gaped out the window at the bustling Castletown, which was packed with colorful stands selling various goods, crowds of eager citizens of various races, and the smell of sizzling foods and perfume.

Even Link was a bit cowed by the town. He still had relatively few memories of his life before his fall, and last he had seen, Castletown had been in the early stages of renovation, since the castle itself took precedent. Seeing it like this was nearly surreal.

“Do you think we’ll have time to check out the town soon?” Lola asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Today might be a bit tough, but I don’t see why we couldn’t take a day sometime this week to explore a bit,” Link responded with a gentle smile. In truth, he was just as eager as she was, but was careful to mask most of his excitement.

The carriage lurched to a stop before an immense, gilded gate. Link exhaled in awe despite himself. The gate represented a lot to him, and in ways it was the one thing that had been left untouched by the Calamity. It was a bastion from a life that no longer existed, unlike the Castle, which Link likened to a corpse forcibly reanimated ( _Like me, in a sense...)_. No matter how skillful the renovations, it was impossible to erase the specter of death that pervaded it. 

They were soon waved through by one of the guards, and continued up until stopping before one of the gatehouses outside of the main Keep.

A large, familiar man in Hylian armor strode out to greet them.

“Hey! How was the trip?”

Bohr stood akimbo as they crawled out of the carriage, a wide smile on his face.

Link took the time to stretch thoroughly before answering. “I would have preferred making it here on my own.”

The larger man burst into raucous laughter. “I’m certain you would have, but it would have taken at least twice the amount of time. Not to mention, I think the little lady here would have preferred the comfort of the carriage much more than traipsing through the rain and wilderness with her old man for two weeks.”

Lola shuddered at the thought, and was once again very grateful for Bohr’s insistence that they travel by the strange vehicle.

Once the conductor had removed all of their luggage from the undercarriage – two, moderately sized bags, all things told –they made their way into the Keep.

As they walked, Lola spoke up. “Um…so, why are you the one showing us to our quarters and not like…I don’t know…”

“…A servant of some sort?” Bohr offered, to which Lola responded with an embarrassed shrug. Bohr gave a shrug of his own. “Eh, I dunno. Just figured you guys could use a familiar face! Isn’t that right, Link?”

Link hummed distractedly in acknowledgement. 

They passed through to a large garden. “The guards are usually housed in the lower levels inside the Keep,” Bohr explained as they made their way through a labyrinth of carefully cultivated flowers and ponds. “But, well, as your primary position is to defend the Princess, and since you’re coming as a little family, Her Majesty thought it would be preferable for you to have your own apartment in this little garden. That way the little lady doesn’t feel _too_ homesick.” He winked at an incredulous Lola.

“The _Princess_ was in charge of like…assigning us an apartment? And she gave us a special one with a _garden?”_  Lola’s bespectacled eyes seemed to grow two times in size.

Link noted silently that this "little garden"- in truth more akin to a small park -  was outside of the main Keep but nestled within an enclosure of large, flowered bushes to give an impression of being tucked away in a little pocket of nature. It lied just below Zelda’s study, which he knew was in turn connected to her room. She’d have easy access to the area without necessarily crossing a lot of people to reach it, and an even easier time surveying it.

“Ah, here it is.” Bohr led them to a small, charming cottage in the style of the houses in Hateno Village. It wasn’t much larger than what they had in Lurelin, but it was much larger than the single room Link had when last he lived in the Castle...not that he had spent much time in it.

Bohr opened the door for them, and gestured to the servants carrying their luggage to place it inside.

Lola waltzed in, taking in the cozy interior, and gave a small squeal of excitement when she saw the wooden steps leading up to a loft-like second floor. She bolted for the stairs.

“The Princess has organized a welcoming ball tonight in the main garden,” Bohr said after the servants had left.  Reading Link’s raised eyebrow, he added quickly, “Don’t worry—she still hates those high-profile, stuffy balls thrown for noble visits. This will be a low-key, outdoor affair. Think of it like a giant garden party and reunion in one.”

Link relaxed.

“But that doesn’t mean you will be able to attend in…that.” He gestured to the wrinkled, cream-colored shirt and ill-fitting trousers that had become Link’s general outfit since he had moved to Lurelin. If clothes would get sandy and wet anyway, he saw no reason to put much effort in wearing nice ones.  “Don’t even get me started on whatever fashion your little one has going on there,” Bohr said, which earned him a miffed “Hey!” from Lola upstairs.

“These lovely ladies here will get you both prepared for tonight,” Bohr said on his way out of the door, allowing a small group of women in. Before leaving, he paused, then looked Link sincerely in the eyes. “It’s really great to have you back, Captain. I hope things work out better this time around.”

The apparent leader of the women, a large, middle-aged matron who towered over Link, eyed him disapprovingly. “You look like an absolute mess.” She scanned the room. “Where’s the girl?”

On cue, Lola emerged from her room and looked anxiously down at the scene below.

The large woman slapped her hands to her face in shock. “My g _oddess_ what a travesty! Her hair, that godawful rag on her head—and what is she _wearing?”_

Lola, too stunned by the woman’s verbal assault to respond, hunched down, perhaps trying to hide the baggy, faded shirt and unflattering shorts she was wearing.

The woman looked accusingly at Link. “It’s one thing that you choose to represent yourself like that—after all, a man with no woman in his life can’t be held to much in the way of expectations—but how could you let a young woman out into the world looking like she does? There’s a reason why girls need their mothers—“

“Enough talking.” Link snapped, taking the woman by surprise. He had been silent up to this point, and taking her barrage of insults in stride, but now he challenged her with an annoyed glare. “Do whatever it is you came here to do and get it over with.”

The matron paled, then turned to her team. “You,” she jabbed two fingers at three of the women, one of which looked no older than sixteen. “Go fix up the girl upstairs. Jessa, you’ll help me with him.” Jessa, a lanky young woman with a weak chin, nodded complacently. The woman turned back towards Link, thinly veiled contempt in her eyes. “Go wash up and get out of those clothes. Be sure to wash your hair and keep it untied – Jessa will do what she can to blend some of those layers.”

Link, who had fallen back into silent compliance, turned away and did what he was told.

After several hours of being snapped at, snipped at, doused in perfume, and fretted over, Link stood in his room, wearing a close-fitting, long-sleeved undershirt tucked into a pair of also close-fitting Hylian trousers. He had half-expected the large woman, whose name was Maren, to insist on Jessa shearing off his hair into sort of foppish undercut. He didn’t bother to hide his mild surprise when she had told Jessa to keep much of the length. “A sense of style that doesn’t match one’s personality will always be ill-fitting. Don’t bother trying to give him the appearance of a young nobleman; it will only serve to make his lack of decorum all the more shocking. Besides, I must admit…” She ran her hand through his locks with surprising delicateness. “He has an absolutely beautiful mane. Pity it’s wasted on him, but…” she trailed off, not bothering to finish her sentence.

Link cleared his throat, feeling very awkward at having Maren stroke his hair. “I imagine I won’t be showing up in an undershirt.”

Maren withdrew her hand as if having been burned. “Jessa, his tunic.” She barked.

Jessa shuffled into the room, holding a bright blue, folded fabric.

Link felt the breath sucked out of him as Jessa unfolded it, spreading it out on the bed before him.

It was his Champion’s tunic.

With a shaking hand, he rubbed the brilliant cerulean fabric between his forefinger and thumb. Dragon scales were woven into the fabric, subtle but rough, and glinting with an ethereal shine. It was the very same he had worn when he had defeated Calamity Ganon.

The same he had worn one hundred years prior.

“Are you alright, my lord?” Jessa asked in a timid voice. “Does it not please you?”

Link shook himself out of his daze and offered her a disarming smile. “Apologies. Just lost in memory, is all.” With that, he slipped the tunic over his head, and secured it with a leather belt around his waist.

It fit a bit differently now than it had in years prior; it was more snug around his chest and shoulders, but still felt comfortable and familiar. He tied his hair back with a blue binding of a similar color to the tunic.

“Hey, we match!”

Lola stood in the doorway with the three handmaids behind her.  She wore a summery dress in the same royal blue hue as his Champion’s tunic, and her hair had somehow been coaxed into a flattering shape, accessorized by a Silent Princess flower barrette. He could see that she was wearing the barest hint of makeup.

Link placed his hands on his hips. “Well hey, kid! You almost look as good as me.”

She shimmied her shoulders happily. “And did you see I’m wearing _makeup_? Triss did it for me!” she gestured to one of the handmaid.

“I did! It’s super cute!” He gingerly fingered the Silent Princess flower in her hair, his eyes growing soft. Lola looked at him curiously as he did so.

Maren cleared her throat. “I strongly suggest heading toward the venue now, lest you miss the opening ceremony.

Link pressed his lips into a flat frown and looked around the room. He took a soldier’s broadsword that he had retrieved earlier from a supply closet and moved to strap it to his back.

“Oh for goddess’ sake,” Maren clapped an exasperated hand to her heavily powdered forehead. “You’re going to a _party_ , not into battle. Leave that thing here and _get going_.”

Link raised an eyebrow. “And I’m a soldier, not a nobleman, as you’ve been reminding me this entire afternoon. I’m not comfortable without a weapon.” _Especially not here…_

Maren sighed raggedly. “Then at least get something more discrete. And _quit dallying.”_

With an annoyed “tsk” of defeat, Link let the sword drop to the floor with a heavy clang. “Alright, let’s go.”

Maren narrowed her eyes at the man, who sauntered off defiantly out the door, trailed by his daughter. Irritation tightened her throat. She was aware of the rumors –all of them. Supposedly this tramp had defeated the Calamity Ganon and rescued the Princess. Supposedly he had also seduced her as well, manipulating her feelings so profoundly that when the time came to betroth herself to a young nobleman from the Faron region –a member of one of the very few surviving families of Royal heritage—she had refused.  Then, as mysteriously as he appeared, he left, leaving behind a distraught Princess and a leaderless army.

Well. They’d see if things would turn out better this time around.

* * *

 

Lanterns glowed like fairy lights in the pastoral garden - strung in trees, across the pavilion, and lining stone walkways. Tables draped in white silk cloth were piled with sumptuously arranged hors d’oeuvres, while others glittered with cascading pyramids of champagne filled flutes. A sharply dressed band coaxed relaxing melodies from large string instruments, while people of varying races in a dazzling variety of colors and costumes mingled contentedly. They could have well been in some alternate version of Elysium, as the scene looked nigh otherworldly.

And yet, Zelda was sick with unease. She gripped her flute in a white-gloved hand tightly, trying in vain to hide her anxiety. She was on her third glass, but the alcohol was doing nothing to calm her nerves as she scanned the crowd. They weren’t here yet. They couldn’t be, as if they were she would certainly—

The murmuring of the crowd grew louder, excited perhaps, as groups of people parted to make way for a small procession.

Her heart lurched in her chest, and she instinctively took another sip of champagne, trying to focus on the prickling of the carbonation on her tongue.

“I think now would be a good time to begin,” Kass said in a low whisper, a gentle smile on his face.

She nodded dumbly and took a moment to collect herself. Though not one to take too much stock in her outward appearance – at least, not for a Princess – she had to admit that tonight she felt absolutely stunning. She was wearing an off the shoulder white dress that lightly hugged her curves without clinging to them. A gold necklace formed with the historical Royal crest subtly accentuated where the gentle swell of her breasts disappeared under the fabric.  Her waist-length golden hair was swept into a loose side bun, with a Silent Princess flower tucked underneath her ear.

She took a deep breath and tapped a small, three-pronged fork to her glass. The bright tinkling sound carried surprisingly well in the evening air, and the crowd’s low murmurs hushed into silence as they turned to her attention.

“First of all, I’d like to start this evening off by thanking each and every one of you for joining us. I know a fair many of you travelled quite far to be here, and I can’t express how much that truly means to me. Do feel free to eat and drink to your heart’s content tonight – I want to make sure your trip was worth it!”

The crowd rumbled with polite laughter, and Zelda continued. “Though I’m always happy for the opportunity to see many of the faces here, I’ve called you to this occasion for two reasons. You’ve all surely heard of the recent attacks on many of our neighboring provinces. For this reason, I’d like to announce that our renowned former Captain-General has come out of his early retirement and agreed to reprise his former position in my personal guard. Captain-General Link, if you could please make your way to the front?”

Shocked whispers rippled through the crowd as they opened to let someone through.

Zelda’s face flushed in waves of hot and cold as _he_ emerged from the murmuring masses. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

After over ten years apart –ten years after he had broken her heart, and stolen off into the night with her baby in his arms –he stood before her, solid and subtly defiant.

He wore his Champion’s tunic, as she had requested, but it fit him differently now. The muscles in his chest and shoulders pulled against the fabric, bulging nearly twice the size from the slight build of his early youth. The years had carved away much of the softness from his jawline and cheeks, leaving behind a masculine angularity that afforded him a more commanding stature. His hair, still worn long in varying wild layers falling about his face and the nape of his neck, had been somewhat bleached by the sun and sea, and now sported random locks of shades varying from platinum to dark blonde, and somehow both complemented and contrasted the golden tan of his skin.

And yet, despite these differences…he was somehow the same. His eyebrows had the same upward arch, one still split from a small scar on his forehead. The same silver-blue hoops hung from his earlobes, and in spite of the increased hollowness of his cheeks, the right one still had a thin horizontal scar, a memento from one hundred years prior.  And his eyes – youthful, thickly-lashed, and blue –had not changed at all. Not from one hundred years ago, not from ten years ago.

His chin was tucked slightly in and he looked up at her through his eyelashes, his expression carefully neutral. Still, she could sense his uneasiness – perhaps a touch of shame? He was gauging her, studying her as much as she was studying him.

She allowed herself a quick scan of the crowd, hoping to catch a glimpse of the little creature that started it all. Lolita.

But she saw nothing, and forced her eyes back to the man before her.

“You may kneel,” she commanded, doing her best to keep any heat out of her voice.

Without as much as a sound he did as bid.

“May the Goddess Hylia bless your mission, so that you may once again bring peace to Hyrule. You may rise.”

He did so.

“Thank you for agreeing to once again serve our Kingdom, Captain Link. Our lives are in your capable hands.”

He nodded, his expression still unreadable, and stepped back into the crowd.

“Now!” She exhaled, letting go of breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Before I let you all get back to your refreshments, I have one more announcement to make. Lord Valen, could you please make your way to the front?”

Valen strode to her side, smiling. He looked every bit the part of a young lord; his dark hair was coiffed perfectly into the current style of the noble class – shorter and well sculpted on the sides and back, longer up top – and he wore a beautifully tailored white suit with gold trimmings.

“The big reason why I asked all of you here is because I’d like to announce my engagement to Lord Valen of Akkala.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, but here we are!
> 
> If you thought there wouldn't be some complicated sexual tension and romantic entanglements, think again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay guys! i was on vacation and too busy being lazy at the beach to write. I didn't forget! That said, don't be surprised if I get sporadic every once in a while...I've got busy months ahead. BUT no worries, I won't leave you guys hanging!

There was more to her speech, but Link couldn’t hear any of it. He stood numb, deaf to the crowd’s cheers around him. When she had called him up, she hadn’t looked at him with any of the anger or contempt he had expected. Instead, she had regarded him with indifference. Somehow, that was worse.

Really, what right did he have to feel this way? _He_ had left _her._ A long time ago. It was a surprise that she hadn’t been long married to some surviving lord, having birthed any number of rightful heirs to her throne.

But he hadn’t _had_ a choice, he’d _had_ to leave. For Lola, most of all.

 _Is that true, though?_ A voice challenged him. _Did you_ really _have to leave, or is that just how you cope with the fact that you ruined your family, and hurt the ones you love the most?_

“ _Dad_!”

Link shook off his thoughts and turned his attention to Lola, who was gripping his arm.

“Jeez, what’s wrong with you? Star-struck from the ceremony?” Her nose was crinkled to punctuate her teasing tone. She crossed her arms. “You lied to me, by the way.”

Link grew cold. “What?”

“You said you had just been some militia person, and that mom left to work at the Castle. But the Princess said that you were taking your old role as Captain General back. You never told me you were a knight, or head of the Royal Guard! Why’d you lie to me? What’s going on?”

He drew a breath and looked up to the sky, closing his eyes. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“I didn’t lie about where your mom is. She works in the castle. I just lied about the…context.”

_Bullshit. You’re telling her bullshit and you can’t even stop how much---_

He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “I’ll tell you about it after the party, okay? It’s complicated and involves strange adult feelings but I’ll do my best to explain. But now’s not the time.” He looked up and noticed a small group of people who seemed to want his attention. “Go play with those kids over there. You’re not gonna stay glued to my side the entire night.”

She frowned, the protest clear on her face. “But I’m shy. And they’re not even my age.”

Taking her by the shoulders, he turned her in the direction of the children playing some sort of game on the far side of the garden. “First step is admitting you have a problem. Now go.” He gave her a gentle but firm push. Stumbling away, Lola looked at him over her shoulder with a wounded expression before dragging her feet towards the children.

Almost as soon as Lola had disappeared into the crowd, the group of people stepped up to join him, led by Bohr.

“Captain!” Bohr clapped a large arm around Link’s shoulders in a binding embrace. Link didn’t react aside from a subtle, annoyed huff. “That second announcement was quite a bombshell, eh? Really came outta nowhere!”

Link spared a glance over at Zelda and her new fiancé – Balen? Or Valen? Or something – as they laughed politely with a group of people. She looked stunning – as beautiful as she’d ever looked, and the man beside her…well, Link had to admit, he was one of the most attractive and naturally regal looking men he’d seen post-Calamity.  A wave of jealousy overwhelmed him for a few horrible moments, but he fought it down.

Bohr cleared his throat and gave Link a warning look of concern, which Link reacted to by bringing his attention back to the small group with a smile that was slightly too wide to be in-character for him. Two women – a familiar-looking Gerudo and a Hylian, stood before him.

“Anyway, we didn’t come here to gossip. Captain, I’d like you to meet your new Commander, Aya. Aya, meet Captain-General Link.”  Bohr reached an arm towards the Hylian woman, who stepped forward and smiled warmly to Link. “I’m absolutely honored for this opportunity to serve under you, Captain.” The Gerudo woman snorted loudly, but Aya pretended not to hear. “I’ve heard _legends_ about you, and you have no idea how amazing it is for me to actually meet you.”

Aya looked to be a few years younger than Link – perhaps in her late twenties to early thirties – and wore her dark copper hair cropped in a short A-line bob. She extended an olive-skinned hand to him.

Link took her hand and smiled. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Commander.  I look forward to working with you. You are to brief me on the mission tomorrow, correct?”

Aya nodded in affirmation. He could have sworn he saw her flush, but it could have been simply because of what the Gerudo woman next to her had begun to say.

“So I confirm Cap, you’re as hot as the rumors say. But you’re also very short. Are you as lacking in the downstairs department as you are in height?” she asked with a grin. Aya was nearly physically staggered by the Gerudo’s words.

Link looked vaguely unimpressed. “I more than compensate for it. Would you like to see for yourself?”

Poor Aya looked as if she were about to faint, and the Gerudo woman, unsure of how to respond, took a sip from her drink, grumbling, “These are nothing compared to old lady Furosa’s.

Bohr howled in laughter. “There’s a lesson for you ladies! Don’t even _attempt_ to make this guy feel awkward. He’ll embrace it and turn it back to you tenfold. He has absolutely no shame.”

“That’s not true…” Link said quietly. He then focused his eyes on the Gerudo woman, who winced under his sudden scrutiny. “…Pokki…right?” he asked, cocking his head slightly.

Pokki’s swarthy complexion went ashen. “Yes…? You know of me?” She didn’t know whether to be honored or scared.

In truth, he had met her before – even rescued her, after she had ventured into the desert and chosen to nearly faint atop a shrine. Of course, he had appeared as a _she_ back then, so it was only natural that she wouldn’t have made any connection to the strange small Hylian vai who brought word of an amazing Noble Pursuit.

Link smiled in a way he knew would confuse her. “Of course I know of you. Has Berta grown tired of your whims at the first sign of a handsome voe or a cold drink?”

The Gerudo woman frowned comically, unsure of what to make of the tiny voe’s words. How would he know any of her former comrades? “I volunteered my services in the recent recruitment campaign. I would be welcomed back with open arms if I chose to go back!”

“Okay.” He was already tired of the conversation.  He wanted more than anything to stride up to Zelda, convince her to give them some time alone, that way he could…what? Tell her how he felt? It didn’t matter how he felt at this point. He’d long relinquished that right. She’d made it clear about how _she_ felt, and the very least he could do was respect that. Still, they needed to talk about something more important than themselves. He looked around for Zelda, but she was nowhere to be found.

He did, however, see Valen, who stood with a group of people, pretending to listen, but was looking directly at Link with an expression he didn’t understand.

Link stared back and the two men locked eyes, engaged in a psychological impasse where neither of them knew exactly what the other was thinking. 

There was no clear winner of the exchange however, as the moment was broken by screams.

* * *

                                                       

Lola sat at a nearby table, watching awkwardly as a group of well-dressed kids a few years older than her stood in group, chattering and giggling amongst themselves. All of the confidence that she had gained earlier that day with the chambermaids had evaporated, as even with the makeup and hair styling, she felt impossibly frumpy when compared to the finely bred children surrounding her. To make matters worse, she had somehow gotten her dress snagged on a thorny rosebush, and had ripped a sizeable hole in its skirts.

She longed to be back in Lurelin Village, lounging on the sun-warmed sand of the beach with Malia while they either read or chatted idly about their interests. She missed the cozy palapa that she and her father had called home for as long has she had remembered. For the moment, she didn’t care about finding the mysterious woman that was supposedly her mother, nor did she care that her father had just been ordained by the Princess herself.

She just wanted to go home.

“Excuse me…but your name is Lolita, isn’t it?” It was a woman’s voice, dignified yet somehow girlish.

Lola looked up at the source of the voice and nearly fell out of her chair. Princess Zelda stood like a goddess above her, green eyes twinkling with interest.

“Uh-um, yes ma’am –I mean, your highness.” Lola stammered. “But everyone calls me Lola.” She had no idea how to address a princess, especially not one as fabled as the Princess Zelda.

The Princess giggled; it was a sparkling, feminine sound, and one that eased some of Lola’s apprehension.

“You’re Captain Link’s little girl,” she stated. “You look just like him, it’s uncanny!”

“Haha, yeah…” Lola nervously tucked her hair behind her ear. “But he says I take a lot from my mother, too. Like her nose. And her stubbornness.”

For a moment, the Princess looked taken aback, and Lola feared she had somehow offended her. She regained her composure, but there was still something in her countenance that filled Lola with unease…a hunger, almost.

“I see. And…if it’s not too private of a question, may I ask where your mother is? It was my understanding that it was only you and the Captain who travelled here.”

Lola subconsciously passed a hand over the hole in her dress. The Princess’s sea-green eyes seemed to betray a certain intimacy, as if she were already familiar with all of Lola’s quirks, faults, and thoughts.

It was unsettling.

“He—my dad, I mean--told me she had to leave for a very important job in the Castle, but that he was sure one day she’d return. Of course, he also told me that before I was born he was just a random survivor who joined the Hateno militia, which I pretty much know is a lie now, so…” She trailed off, the bitterness palpable in her silence.

Something like a darkness passed over the Princess’s face, and Lola knew she had somehow said something she shouldn’t have. She opened her mouth to try and excuse herself, but Zelda spoke first.

“I think I may know your mother,” She said, her voice a quiet front for the emotions that coursed beneath it. “As your father will be away most of the day in briefings, how would you like to join me for lunch tomorrow?”

 Lola’s heart jumped through her chest. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she wasn’t going to question it either. “I…yes, Your Majesty!”

The Princess smiled kindly. “It’s a date then. I’ll have someone fetch you tomorrow.” She glanced back, a regretful expression on her face. “I’m afraid I must leave you now. There’s still quite a few people who I need to prance around with. But it was wonderful talking to you, Lola. We’ll have a bit more time to ourselves tomorrow.” She winked then turned away, dissolving into the crowd and leaving Lola, who burned with an excitement she had never before felt.

Strange popping sounds and subsequent screams jolted her out of her excitement.  The garden, moments earlier abuzz with the gentle groans of string instruments and happy chatter, was thrown into pandemonium.  Lola instinctively dove under one of the edge tables. From the gap between the tablecloth and the ground, she could see flashes of red amongst the panicked movement of legs.

She hugged her knees and closed her eyes, bracing herself against the cries of the crowd around her.

A hand shot under the table, seizing her wrist.

“Oh, thank the goddesses…”

Her father crouched before her, the worried tension in his face melting to relief, before pulling her into a tight embrace. “Are you okay?” He broke the embrace to give her a diagnostic once-over.

Lola nodded, still shaking. “Yeah. But…what’s going on?”

His jaw tightened, the muscles in his cheeks visibly popping underneath the skin. “I’m not sure,” he said after a moment, “But we need to get you to safety. Bohr!” He gestured to someone beyond Lola’s obscured view, and a few seconds later the burly man’s massive head appeared underneath the tablecloth.

“Take her back to the cottage. Lock the doors and windows and stay with her. There should be a broadsword in the bottom floor bedroom, should you need it.”

Bohr nodded tersely, then redirected his gaze to Lola. “Come with me, little lady.”

Lola crawled towards Bohr but turned back to her father, who was scanning the chaos. “Dad, what are you gonna do? Why aren’t you coming?” She was in Bohr’s arms now, held as effortlessly as if she were four years old.

Link gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, though his face remained grim. “I’ll be fine, sweetheart. I just need to get the Princess to safety. It’s my job now.” Seeing Lola’s panicked expression, he added quickly, “I’ll be back as soon as I’ve secured her. I’ll see you in a little bit, okay?”

With that, Bohr bounded away with her, weaving in and out of the sea of panicked bodies.

Tearing himself away from the desire to follow his daughter to assure her safety, he jostled through the crowd, looking around wildly for Zelda.

He found her a moment later, backed against a garden wall behind a terrified-looking Valen. Both were cornered by a figure clad in the red outfit of the Yiga clan, brandishing a sickle.

Cursing Maren’s insistence that he not bring a sword, he snatched a champagne flute and smashed its bowl against a table so that only the sharp glass stem remained. He rushed behind the figure on silent feet, leaping onto its back when he got close enough and burying the champagne stem into its neck where the carotid artery would normally be placed.

He leaped off just as the figure’s hand shot to where the glass spear stuck deeply into its flesh and pulled it out, turning slowly to face Link. In horror, Link realized that no blood appeared to be gushing from the wound; it was as dry as if its flesh were made of stone.

 A desperate shout from behind the figure had it turn its attention from Link back to Valen and Zelda. Valen stared at the masked creature, his hazel eyes wide like a frightened horse, his hands in a white-knuckled grip around his necklace. A few tense moments passed, and then the creature disappeared in a puff of purple smoke and red confetti.

It did not so much vanish into thin air using the typical Yiga illusions, as much sunk into the ground.

Link and Zelda’s eyes met briefly.

No. These were no Yiga.

 

* * *

 

The Council stood like dark specters in the Audience chamber, illuminated with the fractal colored lights cast by the floor-to-ceiling stained glass windows that lined the massive room. 

Link and Aya, both draped in ornate, stiffly cut costumes of Royal blue and gold trimmings, stood poised defiantly before them.

“I maintain that this is a decision to be made by Her Majesty herself.” Link’s voice rang confidently throughout the chamber, and Aya couldn’t help but admire the man’s self-assuredness. He wasn’t particularly talkative, and in the event that he was, he preferred speaking in soft, neutral tones. That didn’t mean, however, that he wasn’t capable of projecting his voice loudly and confidently when needed.

One of the Council members, a gnarled-looking Sheikah of an indeterminable age, responded. “As you are probably well aware, Captain-General, the Princess Zelda trusts our judgement, and has deigned that in her absence, our word is as good as hers.”

An ominous feeling washed over Link. The Council’s words a proper substitute for those of the Princess? Not a good precedent to set. His gaze unwavering, he stood his ground. “With all due respect, Rayu, the Princess is _not_ absent, and I refuse to accept any orders that I do not hear from her directly. It’d be a waste of time for me to go to Karusa valley. What we witnessed yesterday proves that there is something much more complicated going on than a simple Yiga uprising.”

Rayu’s wrinkled face contorted into a grotesque scowl. “You are dismissed for now,” he grunted, “but do not think that the issue has been resolved.” With a flick of a bony hand, he sent them away, the heavy doors closing with a reverberating thud behind them.

As they made their way to the Guard’s chambers, Aya offered Link a lopsided smile. “Old man seems to almost have it out for you, huh?”

Link snorted. “Yeah, well. We have a bit of a…history.”

In truth, ‘history’ was, as per usual, a gross understatement.  Rayu had been one of Link’s first detractors ever since he came to his position at the Castle. The old man had served Zelda’s father, and as such didn’t hesitate to make Zelda aware of all the ways she didn’t measure up to him.  He was staunchly traditionalist, and had gone nearly white with shock when he had learned that Zelda and the young knight – whose history he was well aware of –had developed a relationship far beyond what would have been deemed appropriate.

As he was one of the few remaining people still alive to have known life before the Calamity, and of the fewer still to have known her father the king directly, Zelda tolerated Rayu’s outrage at any breach of the old values, and despite herself valued his advice.

Of course, that didn’t mean she wasn’t up for a bit of rebellion every now and then.

He remembered in particular one evening, where Zelda and the Council had been drawing up trade agreements, with himself at her side as usual, when Rayu had interrupted the meeting.

_“Your Majesty,” he had said, his gravelly voice stern but not unkind, “Forgive me, but if I may say…the Audience chamber is not a place for your knight, however…loyal…he may be.”_

_Link looked uncertainly towards Zelda, who had a tendency bend to whatever it was Rayu willed her. That day, however, she had looked defiant, bristling at the implications of his words._

_“My knight’s place,” She said, her echoing clearly off the acoustic stone walls, “Is beside me. And I will have_ no one _suggest otherwise.”_

_Rayu’s face had gone pale then, and he stammered out a stunned, “Of course, Your Majesty. Forgive my transgression.”_

_After the session had adjourned, Zelda pulled Link into her study, giddy with the thrill of having stood up to authority. “Did you see how surprised he was? He acted like I had_ slapped _him!” She giggled triumphantly._

_Link scoffed, a bemused smile at his lips. “Yeah. Now I’m sure he’ll resent me even more than he already does.”_

_Zelda punched him playfully in the shoulder. “Oh, come off it. What do you care what he thinks of you?”_

_Link shrugged. “Not much, I suppose. But you were wrong about something.”_

_“Oh?” Zelda’s large green eyes were wide in surprise._

_He shook his head. “My place_ isn’t _beside you, Zelda.”_

_Zelda looked a mix of startled and confused now. Link took a step towards her, bringing his face close enough for their lips to brush against each other._

_“It’s_ inside _of you.”_

If only she had been that defiant when it had mattered most...

“Captain,” Aya said gently, touching a timid hand to his arm. Link looked up at her, vaguely startled, until he realized that she must have read his flushed expression as him being flustered by the exchange with Rayu.

 He smiled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. They’re just scared from yesterday.”

Aya nodded. “I’m sure. I mean, I am too. I still can’t believe no one ended up getting seriously hurt, but still…it would mean they’ve somehow infiltrated our ranks.”

Link pursed his lips in a doubtful expression.

“What? You don’t think they popped out of thin air, do you?” she asked incredulously.  

“Mm, no. But something’s not…” He sighed instead of finishing his sentence, and ran a hand through his hair.

They reached the Guards’ Quarters, and Link took a seat on one of the wooden weapons crates, training his gaze at his feet.  Aya sat next to him and moved to meet his eyes. “Hey,” she said. He looked up at her.

“I get what you’re trying to say. I thought it was strange too. Like, when they all disappeared at the same time, I could have sworn I…” she gave an embarrassed laugh. “I mean, again, maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me but…I could have sworn I saw them sink into the ground.”

She noticed a flash of recognition in his eyes. “So I’m not crazy, right? You saw it too?”

Link sighed and leaned back against the stone wall. He pretended to study the wooden rafters for a bit before responding. “No, you’re not crazy.”

Aya grabbed the fabric of Link’s trousers in excitement, which elicited a startled glance down at her hand. She didn’t, however, remove it. “So what do you think it is, then?”

Her dark eyes danced excitedly, and she was very, very close to him – closer than he’d allowed any woman to be in quite a long time. He was hyper-aware of her grip on his thigh, and for the first time he noticed the mask of freckles sprayed across the bridge of her small nose.

He swallowed. “I think…” Blood was rushing in his ears, muffling the sound of his own voice. “…I think we have a necromancer in our midst.”

* * *

 

A knock at the door roused Lola from her nap. She hadn’t slept well the night before after the horror of the attack on the garden party. True, nobody had been seriously injured with the exception of someone who had broken their leg trying to escape, but it had still been the most terrifying ordeal she had ever been through.

Bohr had stayed with her in the darkened house, doing his best to carry a casual conversation to distract her from the danger they were hiding from. She had learned a lot about the man – for example, that he had been recruited by her father himself after Link had witnessed him defend his home settlement from a purple-maned Lynel. She had also learned that he had a long-term partner – a male Gerudo named Faisal – though they lived separately while Bohr was on duty. 

Bohr seemed to know a lot about her father, but when the subject turned to her mother, he became tight-lipped. “It was a bit of a forbidden relationship, so they kept it as secret. My understanding was that it would have been problematic for people to have known your mom was involved with your old man at all, let alone pregnant by him!”

This intrigued Lola greatly, and she was very eager for her father to make it back so that she’d be able to confront him with this newfound information.

He didn’t shuffle through the door until hours later however, and when she saw the distant look in his eyes and the harsh, vertical lines between his eyebrows, she no longer felt confident enough to talk to him about much of anything. After assuring that her experience in hiding had been uneventful, he had retired to his room and shut the door, leaving her feeling somehow lonelier than she had before his arrival.

 The knocking was more insistent now, and Lola, bleary-eyed and somewhat grumpy, made her way to the door.

A vaguely surprised-looking handmaid stood at the other side. “Um, forgive me little mistress, but I believe you have a lunch appointment with Her Majesty the Princess?”

 _Crap_. After the chaos of the day before, she had somehow lost track of the time. A part of her also hadn’t completely believed the Princess would keep her promise of the lunch date, especially after the event of the day before.

“Oh—yes…! Um, sorry, let me just…”

Lola ran to the wash room to splash soap and water on her face and attempt to smooth down her hair, which had been tousled beyond repair from her nap.  

 _Oh well,_ she thought as she stared wistfully at her dowdy reflection. _This will have to do._

* * *

 

Zelda paced about in her chamber suite. Her mind still raced with the disturbing event of the previous evening, but that was only a small part of her general malaise.

A small, round table had been set for two in the middle of the suite. She wanted this to be a casual affair, and as private as possible. She could only hope that she wouldn’t intimidate the girl…

The girl.

Lola.

_Her daughter._

It sounded like such a strange, foreign concept. She had only been a mother for a couple of years, and even then, the most time she had gotten to spend with her child had been when she was pregnant with her.

“Your Majesty, your guest is here.”

Lola stood maladroitly at the entrance of the chamber and cast a forlorn glance after the servant girl who had closed the door behind her, effectively trapping her in the room.

Zelda smiled in a way that she hoped would put the girl at ease. “Hello, Lola! How are you feeling today? Not too terribly shaken by yesterday’s events, I hope!?”

The girl brushed her short hair behind an ear ineffectively. “Hi, Your Majesty. Uh, I mean it was kinda scary, but no one ended up getting hurt so it’s all good. I’ll probably get over it in a few days.”

Pulling out a chair, Zelda gestured for Lola to sit. “You can call me Zelda when we’re in private – I prefer it, actually.”

Lola nodded complacently and took a seat. Zelda took her own across from her. She rang a bell, and after a few moments a couple of servants left silver trays on the table. 

“So,” Zelda leaned forward, her hands clasped together on the table as if praying. “Tell me a little bit about yourself. What type of things do you like to do?”

Lola wasn’t particularly interested in talking about herself; what she really wanted was to hear what the princess knew about her mother. Still, perhaps it’d be rude to get straight to the point.

“Well, I love to read.” She smoothed out a crease in the tablecloth. “And I’m especially interested in ancient Sheikah technology…or really Sheikah culture in general.”

Zelda’s heart skipped a beat. She began to serve the girl a helping of roasted vegetables to dispel a bit of the nervous energy. “You’re interested in Sheikah culture and technology? Have you ever been to Kakariko Village, then? Or any of the Ancient Tech Labs?”

She knew the answer to the question already. She had given birth to the girl in Impa’s home, and had spent a great deal of her early life concealed safely from the gossip mongers of Castletown. The question she was actually interested in was if Lola knew it.

Lola pushed her food around in the plate and puffed out her cheeks in contemplation. “I was born in Kakariko Village, but I’ve never been back since I was a baby. I tried asking my dad to take me there, but he would always get kinda…dodgy? I guess? So I gave up. And no, I haven’t been to any of the Ancient Tech labs, but that’d be amazing.”

“Well, perhaps we could arrange that!” Zelda chirped, then promptly chastised herself for sounding overeager.

A shy, lopsided smile – one Zelda had seen all too often on the girl’s father –bloomed across Lola’s face. “That’d be cool.”

An awkward silence fell between them then. Zelda could tell the girl was waiting for something, and her confession pounded against her chest, begging to be released.

And yet, as much as she ached to, she couldn’t.

Link obviously hadn’t enlightened the girl as to Zelda’s true relationship to her, and guiltily, she found herself somewhat grateful for that. After all, there was no way she’d be able to publicly declare her existence – not yet, anyway.  The Council would never accept Lola as the true heir – they had made that very clear 10 years ago – and the subsequent uproar such a bombshell would cause would only serve to weaken her hold on the throne, and put Lola in the same danger her father had snatched her from a decade ago.

So, when Lola looked up at her expectantly with guarded hope in her bespectacled eyes, Zelda did what every parent has had to do.

She lied.

“I, ah…” Zelda cleared her throat to signal a change of subject. “So, I’m sure you’re very eager to know more about your mother, who I believe worked in the Castle.”

Lola’s eyebrows drew together slightly at the past-tense usage.

“We used to be quite close, you see. But I…the truth is, she left the castle some years ago, and I haven’t seen or heard from her since.”

The lies felt bitter and slimy in her mouth, and as she watched the hope drain from the young girl’s face, her unspoken confession raged and taunted her. _Selfish_ , it said. _Foolish and selfish and cowardly. Your selfishness is why he left and took her – you left him no choice. Now you have a second chance, but you’ve learned nothing._

She took a shaky sip of wine. “I can tell you almost anything about her, though. I knew…I know quite a lot.”

This did little to alleviate the disappointment that weighed on Lola’s features. She trained her gaze at her nearly untouched plate, and feebly let her shoulders fall in a defeated shrug. “Sure.” The reply was more breath than voice.

Desperate to alleviate some of Lola’s disillusionment, Zelda stammered out, “She-she loves you, you know. She’d always talk about how much she missed you, and how she wished she could see you.”

Her words were gasoline to the smoldering Lola. With surprising strength, she shot up and slammed her small fists against the table, inciting a cacophony of clattering from the silverware. “Oh, really? Because it sure as hell doesn’t seem like that to me!” 

In her fury her glasses had fallen into her plate, revealing startling blue eyes wide with rage. “I don’t give a shit what happened between my parents—if she really wanted to, she could have found me.  So to be honest, hearing about her whine about how she loved me _oh so much_ pisses me off.  Fuck her, I don’t even care anymore!”

Having purged herself of the venomous diatribe, the little girl crumpled back into her chair, chest heaving with frustrated sobs.

Zelda sat stunned for a moment. Her head held a maelstrom of malformed emotions, and even if she felt capable of forming words, she didn’t trust herself to speak any further. Instead, she cautiously made her way around the table, until she stood awkwardly beside the form of the crying girl. She hovered a tentative hand over Lola’s unruly head and jerkily brought it down to stroke her hair. When she wasn’t attacked in response, she gathered her against her chest. Lola melted into her embrace, her sobs now muffled wails that seemed to physically penetrate Zelda’s own heart.

Something wet fell onto the child’s golden crown, and Zelda realized that these tears were all her own.


	7. Chapter 7

Moonlight and night air poured into the large open window of Zelda’s suite. She drew the curtains together just enough for a sense of privacy, though no other part of the castle had a vis-à-vis into her room.  She felt strange – as though she had squeezed herself of every emotion her heart had to offer, leaving her a used husk. It wasn’t an expressly negative feeling, though she wouldn’t consider it particularly positive either.  In short, she felt exhausted. The past couple of days had brought a lot with them, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in her large canopy bed with a mug of Hyrule Herb tea and the new book she had swiped from Purah’s lab ( _Ancient Sheikah Art and Artifacts)._

Just as she sank beneath the billowy comforter, she heard a polite knock at the door.

“Yes?” she sighed impatiently.

Valen poked in his head. “Mind if I come in?” Even as he asked, half of his body had already passed the threshold of her room. Sensing her annoyance, he held up a small plated fruitcake from his previously hidden hand, adding, “I brought cake!”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Well, I suppose I couldn’t refuse the _cake.”_

Satisfied with her answer, he slid the rest of his body through the door and shut it behind him, balancing the cake in one hand.

“Consider it a consolation prize from yesterday’s fiasco,” he said, setting it down on her lap. “And as a bribe to forget about me screaming like a teen girl in the face of danger.”

Zelda placed her hand in front of her mouth to stifle a cake-filled snort. “Oh, not sure one cake would be enough to do that. After five, we can consider it.” She paused and looked up from the dessert. “But, if I may speak seriously for a moment…it meant a lot to me that you stood before me despite your fear. Girly scream or not, that was very brave and selfless of you.”

Valen barked a laugh. “Oh, come now.  Now what your Knight boyfriend did – _that_ was brave. I was just panicking.”

The cake became a sour lump in her throat that she struggled to swallow. She placed the half-eaten cake on the ground beside her bed and reclined back into her pillow, her eyes staring angrily at the sheer canopy above her. “First of all, that’s his job. Second, he’s more crazy than brave if I’m honest. Third –he’s _not_ my boyfriend.”

Sitting down on the edge of her bed, Valen placed a hand on her exposed shoulder. Zelda tensed. “I apologize, I went too far. That was in bad taste. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

“Well, you can start by getting your bloody hand off my shoulder,” she quipped.

Valen withdrew his hand as if he’d been bitten, a bashful grin on his handsome face. “Done. Though I’m a little disappointed – now that we’re engaged, I thought we could have at _least_ passed the ‘no physical contact’ stage.”

Zelda shot him a playfully reproachful look. “Uh oh, are we having a change of heart from our little _deal_?”

He placed his palm on his chest in feigned indignation. “Oh goddesses, Princess, no!”  He winked at her with a sly grin. “But even I am at times powerless before such a dazzling display of feminine beauty – marriage of convenience or no.”

She sputtered and rolled her eyes. “Ugh, go. I tire of you,” She said, not unkindly.

Sketching an ornate bow, Valen flashed another one of his signature smiles. “Your wish is my command, your Highness.”

Once he had left, Zelda fell back into her pillows with an audible –poof- and began to lose herself into her book.

“Well. I was almost worried I’d have to stay perched outside your window all night.”

The soft, melodious male voice jolted her from the relaxed lull she had fallen into. A cloaked figure emerged from the billowing curtains covering her window. “What the— _how did you get in here?!”_

Link pulled back his hood. “You left your window open.”

Zelda threw her book to the side, her upper body rigid. “And that somehow gives you the right to just—to just waltz on in here and spy on me? How _dare_ you breach my privacy like this? Who do you think you are? Why, I have half a mind to—“

He cut her off. “We have things to discuss.”

His voice remained calm, and his face was carefully vacant of any discernible emotion, but there was a steeliness in his eyes and an edge to his words that gave her a chill. “You met with Lola today.”

It wasn’t a question. He knew very well it was a fact, and in that quietly aggressive way of his, he was demanding that she explain.  Even after all of these years – and though much of him remained a mystery to her – she still understood how to read him well enough.

She jutted her chin insolently. “Yes, as a matter of fact I did. I invited her for lunch and we had a very nice time.”

That second part wasn’t entirely true and Link certainly knew this, but it didn’t matter. He had burst into her room uninvited and was trying to bully her because she dared see her own child. She was well beyond annoyed.

“…And you didn’t think to talk to me first?”

“Hah! What, are you seriously demanding that I _ask you permission_ before making plans with my own daughter?”

“No. I’m saying we should have discussed it together first.”

“So you’re basically saying I need to get your approval. Because goddess forbid I want to have _any_ autonomy and see the child that was literally _kidnapped_ from me by the man I trusted the most!”

Link stiffened visibly, and Zelda noted with satisfaction that she had struck a nerve.

He tightened his jaw. “This isn’t about _us,_ Zelda. It’s about _her._ Do you realize what your little ‘talk’ with her did? Do you understand that you have just ruined any chance for us to tell her the truth without completely destroying any scrap of trust she has in us? She had _hope_ coming here. We could have figured out a way to tell her the truth.” His voice held a tinge of disgust, and it was all she could do to keep from sinking into the floorboards. “She’s crushed, Zelda. And there’s no way to fix it. Not without collateral damage, anyway.”

His arms were crossed in front of his chest and his eyes were cast askance. It was as if he no longer had the desire to acknowledge her presence.

Cold guilt churned deep in her stomach. She had been so overcome with excitement and longing to see the little person her baby had become that she hadn’t considered how to do so with tact, and now she had caused Lola distress! The realization made her ill.

Of course, she’d be damned if Link got to know this.

“You know, Link…”

He raised his eyes to meet hers, annoyance mixed with apprehension in his regard.

“None of this would have been an issue had you never left. _You_ chose to take her, and _you_ chose to lie to her. Now you expect me to play along and fix whatever mess your actions have conjured over the years to make _you_ look like the good one. Well, guess what? I’m very sad to hear that Lola’s upset, but you’ve only got yourself to blame for that. You deserve every bit of lost respect this will earn you.”

Link recoiled. Her words, Zelda saw, had him physically reeling – something she’d never seen happen. Without saying another word, he pulled up the hood of his cloak and disappeared soundlessly out of her window.

* * *

 

_She fidgets in her velvet throne under the Counsel’s stony stares. Thirteen Zora, Hylian, Gerudo, Sheikah, Rito, and Goron faces watch her with various expressions of apprehension, or anger, or sadness, or amusement, but all radiate the same thought: disappointment._

_Rayu, as is custom, stands at the forefront, and his sunken features give him the appearance of a bearded skull._

_“You must renounce her.”_

_His gravelly voice, eroded by the years, turns her blood to ice. Her first few attempts to speak come out like a dying breath. “I can’t deny my own child,” she finally manages to say, the words quivering in her throat._

_The old Sheikah man remains unsympathetic. “She is a bastard child. You were thoroughly warned of this outcome when you decided to take on your knight as a lover. This Court and the people it reigns over will not allow such a child to ascend to the throne. Furthermore, should the public learn of her existence, your reputation will be threatened. The people see you as morally pure; you are the mortal form of Hylia Herself. How will they take it to learn that you allowed yourself to be sullied by a man of non-noble birth? A servant of the Sword, no less?”_

_Her mind reels with a thousand thoughts that will never form into words._

_Rayu continues. “Of course, you are allowed to see her under other pretenses. The knight will be moved from his position in the Royal Guard to the Army, and can remain on Castle grounds. The girl will have the choice of any number of careers within the Castle itself. We only stipulate that she not be officially recognized as your offspring, and that she have no right to the throne.”_

_“I…I can’t accept this.” The lump in her throat rises, threatening hysteria._

_“Take some time to process. We did not take this decision lightly. Understand that our interests lie in what’s best for Hyrule. We hope that yours do, as well.”_

_She retrieves her favorite horse and rides alone to Kakariko Village, unconcerned with the dangers of travelling without a convoy._

_Impa’s eyes, though gray and watery with age, betray compassionate understanding the moment she bursts through the doors to the old woman’s home. “They are upstairs, dear.”_

_She finds Link in the room that had become the primary home for the baby. He sits with Lolita in his lap while Paya sits across from him, spooning food into the baby’s toothless mouth._

_A wave of jealousy rumbles through her, but is overridden by other emotions. Paya wordlessly takes Lolita from Link’s lap and casts a shy, sympathetic glance at Zelda before disappearing out of the room._

_Link leaps up to his feet and reaches a hand to touch her cheek, his face wracked with concern. As soon as she feels his touch, she dissolves into tears. Link envelopes her in an embrace. He has a calm, confident air about him, and Zelda finds his presence calming. She feels safe in his arms, and knows that as long as she has him at her side, everything will be alright._

_“They want me to deny her,” she says once her tears have run their course. Link says nothing, but she feels him tense minutely. She tightens her embrace, pressing against him as if she hopes to be completely enveloped by him. “I_ won’t _let that happen.” She says tightly, hot anger coiled in her throat. “I won’t hide her any longer. I won’t hide_ us _any longer. I refuse to have her grow up in the shadows, just as I refuse to keep forcing you into them.”_

_His blue eyes widen and his face breaks into a rare, dazzling smile. It is the smile of a young boy – pure and unguarded, and it makes Zelda feel hot in the face and in her loins. He kisses her deeply, his hands sliding down the curve of her hips. She accommodates him and eagerly sheds her clothing while doing her best not to break the kiss. Desperate to fill the clawing void the Council’s decision caused her, she pulls him inside her as deeply as she can physically accept him. He reassures her with his body, every stroke a promise that he will always be there for her, that he will do everything in his power for her to feel good and loved and safe. And as the hot tension within her post-birth belly grows to the point of bursting, she answers that she believes him._

* * *

 

Lola awoke to the smell of frying pork and coffee. Downstairs, she could hear the clatter of pots and pans and the absent-minded humming of her father as he cooked. Since they had moved to the castle around a week ago, this was the first time she had awakened to find her father had not already left.  While he had often been out on excursions during their time in Lurelin, she had never seen so little of him. In fact, it was no longer rare that she would go full days without seeing him, as he’d be already gone in the mornings, and wouldn’t return until well after her bedtime. Truthfully, it was getting achingly lonely.

She made her way downstairs to the dining area, rubbing the remnants of sleep from her eyes.

Link turned from the stove to greet her over his shoulder. “Good morning,” he said with a smile.

“ ‘Morning,” Lola croaked.

He transferred a steaming pancake to a plate of sizzling bacon and placed it before her. She mumbled her thanks.

“So,” he took a seat in front of her with his own plate. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately, huh?”

Lola shrugged nonchalantly without looking up from her food.

“I’m really sorry about that. It’s been…a crazy week. And while I can’t promise that it will change any time soon, I want to at least try and make it up to you in some way. I’ve missed you.”

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This whole situation was already annoying, and the fact that he was acting all soft and hurt about it made her want to gag. Still, something in her heart lurched ever so slightly.

He fell silent for a moment. “I was thinking we could spend the day together. Check out Castletown. What do you think?”

She thought that it sounded wonderful, but the adolescent urge to act nonchalant overrode her enthusiasm. “Sounds okay, I guess,” she replied between bites.

“Well…okay. How about you get ready after breakfast and we’ll head out?” There was a trace of hurt and confusion in his voice that made her feel somewhat guilty.

She nodded. He regarded her for a moment while she avoided eye contact before getting up and clearing his plate. “I’ll be waiting for you whenever you’re ready.”

Not even pre-teen angst could resist the allure of the bustling Castletown. Lola found herself cowed by the colors of the various stands and costumes, the sounds of excited shouting and street music, and the smells of perfume, spices, sweat, grilled meats, and human refuse that swirled around her. Embarrassingly, she had caught herself gripping her father’s arm like a child several times before forcing herself away, until her surroundings once again overwhelmed her and drove her to subconsciously seek the safety of his presence.

Link, accustomed to the serenity of the wilderness, looked around wild-eyed, feeling very lost. “Ah…so…what…”

Lola scanned the marketplace for anything of interest. “Um…well, I’m getting kinda hungry.”

He nodded. “Hungry…right.” He spotted a relatively quiet alleyway with a few tables and chairs set out. “How about we go over there?”

Eager to get out of the crowd, she agreed.

Link sighed in relief as they sat down, happy to be away from the chaos.

“You’re not used to so many people?” Lola asked, having noticed his prior discomfort.

He shook his head vigorously, his brows furrowed in an expression that read, ‘of course not!’

“But I thought…” she paused, unsure whether to continue. She didn’t usually feel comfortable asking her father questions about himself, both because he seemed so guarded and because it rarely occurred to her to ask. “…I thought you like, um, were alive before the Calamity?”

His eyes registered mild surprise at her question. “I…was,” he answered slowly. “But I don’t remember much of it.”

He had told her surface details about how he had been mortally wounded in the Calamity, and that the next thing he knew he had woken up a century later in a vat of Ancient Sheikah goo and a bad case of amnesia. She would have thought that it was one of the stories he liked to tell expressly to test her gullibility—after all, how convenient was it that he remembered nearly nothing-- but something in the way his expression tightened when he said it made her feel otherwise.  

“So you don’t, like…remember your family?”

He shook his head slowly and picked at a chip of paint in the table.

“…Do you, um. Do you wish that you knew what your mom and dad looked like? Like, does it feel strange not knowing where you came from? Because that’s kinda how I feel. Like there’s a huge part of me that’s a big cloudy mystery or something.”

In shock, he snapped his attention to her with an expression so filled with sorrow that Lola had to look away for fear of bursting to tears.  Desperate to distract herself, she turned her attention to one of the stands in the market place.

“Hey,” she cleared her throat to rid it of the painful lump of emotion that sat there. “What’s that?”

Link swiveled his head to find what she was referring to. “Oh. Those are patchwork quilts. You take a bunch of different scraps of fabrics and sew them all together to make one big blanket.”

She nodded in understanding. “Can we check it out?”

“Sure…?” he cocked his head in puzzlement. “But I thought you were hungry?”

Lola shrugged. “Nah, not anymore. I can wait.” She got up and bounded over to the stand with surprising energy.

The merchant, a colorful, hefty woman with a dimpled smile, greeted her warmly. “Why hello, little one!  May I help you?”

Lola ran her hand over a folded blanket. “Hello. Um, I don’t know. I saw your stand and thought these were kinda cool and wanted to check them out, I guess.”

The woman chuckled. “Well I’m glad you appreciate them! Not many people do, you know.”

She looked up in genuine surprise. “Wait, really? How?”

“Most people prefer to have something uniform in perfect condition,” the merchant explained. “They think that things are only good for one purpose, and when they aren’t useful anymore, they are discarded. But quilts are made of patches; each patch had a previous life – like as a blanket, or a stuffed animal, or perhaps a wedding dress. But instead of being thrown away once they’re used up, they are rearranged into something new.” She rubbed one of the quilts tenderly between her fingers. “It’s poetic in a way, isn’t it?”

Lola bobbed her head as her eyes traced the various splotches of colors and patterns and textures on the quilts. “How much is one of them?”

The merchant hummed thoughtfully. “Normally, I sell these starting at 250 rupees, depending on the size and the materials of the patches. _But—“_ she held up her hand to stop Lola’s impending disappointment. “I’ve got just the one for you that I’m willing to part with for a mere 50.” She rummaged underneath the stand and came up with a much smaller quilt. “It’s unfinished, as you can see. But the beauty in that is that you can add to it the way you see fit. I’ll be happy to show you how it’s done.”

Her heart gave an excited leap. True, the quilt –if it could be called one at this point –was an oddly shaped mess of loose threads and missing patches. But something about the idea of making her very own was strangely exciting. She looked back pleadingly at her father, who had made his way over sometime during her discussion with the merchant. Wordlessly, he handed the woman a purple rupee.

“I put a few loose patches in there to help you get started,” she said as she handed the bagged quilt to Lola. “Feel free to drop by whenever you’d like, and I’ll show you some techniques over tea and a chat.”

Link flashed the woman a thankful smile as he guided his daughter –who clutched her new possession reverently to her chest—back through the crowd.

A familiar, copper-haired woman awaited them anxiously back at the castle.

“Link, thank goddesses you’re here,” Aya said breathlessly as soon as they were within hearing distance.

Lola’s eyes shot to her father, who appeared alarmed. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

Aya grabbed his forearm with surprising strength. “Kakariko Village has just been attacked.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it has been a loooong time! I travelled a lot these past few months, then I ate a lot for the holidays, and...well, the point is, I didn't abandon the story! I tend to be sporadic with updates, as is my nature. Either way, enjoy! 
> 
> P.S. I love comments. I live, breathe, and eat them. Thank you to everyone who leaves comments (and kudos, of course <3).

By the time the convoy – consisting of Zelda, Link, and a handful of Royal Guards – made it to Kakariko, the majority of the conflict appeared to have been resolved.

Rows of fallen Yiga-clad corpses lined the ground, and strange-looking charms scrawled on red paper were tacked to nearly every surface of the town– doors, windows, trees, shrines, scattered on the grass.

A tiny old woman shriveled to nearly inexistence sat before the corpses, propped up by a tower of pillows.  Her rheumy eyes regarded Link evenly before they acknowledged the Princess before her. It had been a decade since she had last seen him, and Link found himself trying to read her expression in hopes of understanding what she thought.

“Lady Impa,” Zelda struggled to keep the breathlessness from her voice. “Have we arrived too late? Are there any casualties?”

 The old woman took her time before responding. “Our Fairy goddess continues to bless us with her protection. Not a hair was harmed in this village.”

Zelda exhaled in relief.

Noticing Link’s eyes trained on the masked corpses, Impa grunted. “Feel free to take a closer look.”

He nodded thanks, then knelt down beside the body, gingerly pulled the mask off –

And nearly retched in revulsion.

The body had long been decomposed, to the point of being nearly mummified. What flesh clung to its skeletal remains had an almost wooden quality, and eyeless sockets stared soullessly back at him.

In shock, his eyes shot up to the old woman, who wore a knowingly grim expression. “They’re all like that,” she said, intuiting his unspoken question. “It’s certainly possible that they were charmed to quickly decompose after death to avoid identification, but---“

“No,” Link interrupted softly. He was looking back at the corpse with an opaque expression. “They were always like that.”

A small part of Zelda expected Impa to challenge him on this assertion, and was mildly surprised when the old woman appeared to have been expecting such an answer.

“I’d like to speak with the both of you privately,” Impa said, her voice reedy. Without waiting for a response, she folded her wrinkled hands in her lap and bowed her head, spurring her two guards to gingerly lift her – tower of pillows and all –and carry her up to her house.

Pointedly ignoring Link, Zelda turned to face the handful of Royal guards behind her. “Guards! Assist these brave villagers in cleaning up this mess. The General and I will seek audience with the Lady Impa on this matter. I will brief you on the next steps at the conclusion of meeting. We stay the night at Kakariko.”

With that, she made her way up the staircase to the Lady Impa’s house, and Link fell into step three paces behind.

The house was just as warm and inviting as Link had remembered it; he hadn’t been back since the fateful night he had pressured Paya to allow him to take off with the two year old Lola.

“Have a seat, get comfortable,” the old woman urged once the large double doors had closed. “May I offer either of you any tea?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Paya!”

The clacking of wood-soled sandals against the wooden floor and the trill, panicked voice of a young woman echoed from upstairs. “Yes, grandmother--!”

The source of the racket clumsily hurried her way down stairs, then stopped in her tracks so suddenly she nearly tumbled the rest of the way down. “M-master Link?!”  Her dark, doe-like eyes were wide with surprise, and a scarlet flush crept to her cheeks.

Link offered her a shy smile and nervously smoothed the back of his hair down. “Hey, Paya…been a while, hasn’t it?”

Paya seemed unsure what to say, frozen at the sight of the man before her. Impa cleared her throat.

“Ah, y-your Majesty!” she exclaimed, evidently noticing Zelda for the first time. “Please, accept my apologies for my rude behavior! May I get you some tea?”

Zelda smiled tightly. “Don’t worry, Lady Papaya. It seems Link’s presence tends to have rather…interesting effects on people. I’d love some Jasmine tea, thank you.”

Link frowned, certain he had just been insulted but unsure what to make of it.

Once Paya had brought the tea and retreated to her room, Impa began to speak.

“The attack happened fairly suddenly. One minute, everyone was going about their daily activities, and the next, dozens of Yiga attackers appeared from thin air.” She paused to take a sip of her tea. “Of course, we knew that they weren’t actually Yiga, as aside from their appearance…well, they behaved nothing like them. A few of the brave men were able to behead some of the attackers, and noticed that there was no blood.”

“…So that’s when you knew…” Zelda’s voice was barely above a whisper.

The old woman dipped her head in a curt nod. “On a hunch, I had my granddaughter invoke some charms to ward against malevolent spirits of the dead – there was a time, you see, when Sheikah culture was very much tied with the occult. Surprisingly – and thankfully – they worked.” Impa punctuated the end of her sentence with a meaningful look.

A chill crept down Zelda’s spine. She had read in history books of a time when the undead and malevolent spirits lurked certain dark corners of Hyrule’s underground. These occurrences were exacerbated with Ganon’s presence, but not necessarily dependent on it. Of course, with the exception of Stal-monsters, which no longer appeared after Ganon’s defeat, and _arguably_ Wizzrobes, ghosts and the undead didn’t exist outside of legends and campfire stories. This was certainly some sort of trick – a glamor, perhaps, to instill fear in her kingdom?

Link didn’t look nearly as skeptical.

“Are they attached to souls?” he asked in that quiet, even voice of his.

Impa shook her head. “They are empty vessels – puppets, if you will.”

He nodded, as if confirming his thoughts. “So there’s a puppet master, then.”

Zelda shot to her feet. “Lady Impa…are you aware of any literature on the subject?”

The old woman cackled. “Your highness, what are you implying? Of course I am!”

Her heart leapt in her chest. “Where? I must acquire any information you have on the subject at once! I-I—“

“Calm down, child!” Impa held a tiny, bony hand out, imploring Zelda to take a seat. “There are extensive archives below the village. They’re not going anywhere. I’ll have Paya show you tomorrow. For tonight, however…why don’t we rest? It’s been a long day, and I’m quite old.  As your soldiers have taken up the Inn, you both are welcome to spend the night here.”

Both Zelda and Link stiffened, and exchanged startled glances.

“Thanks for the offer,” Link began cautiously, “but my place is with my soldiers.”

Impa gripped her crossed knees and leaned forward. “Your place is guarding the princess! How dare you propose to leave her defenseless? I understand you still suffer from the effects of amnesia but I wouldn’t have expected you to forget your duties to the crown!”

Link winced.

“Paya has already prepared your room, upstairs on the left. I assume you’re both familiar enough with the place that you don’t need a full tour.” She gingerly got up and hopped off her pillow throne. “…even if it’s been a while.” She shot Link a wayward glance.

He figured he more than deserved it. It didn’t alleviate any of the nearly painful levels of awkwardness, however.

Paya hurried down to support her grandmother to her sleeping quarters.

“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Impa!” Zelda called after her. The old woman raised a hand in acknowledgement without looking back as she disappeared into her room.

Now she was stuck with him, with no one else to distract her from his presence. She hoped that Impa’s use of the singular “room” was simply an affectation of her speech, and that she didn’t literally mean they were expected to share a room.  She inhaled deeply, and turned to face Link.

“I suppose that means I’ll retreat to my sleeping quarters. I expect you to be functional bright and early, so while I don’t particularly concern myself with your actions, I suggest you do the same.”

He cocked his head ever so slightly to the side with a small smirk at his lips, as if she had just said something ridiculous.

“…What?” she huffed.

He shook his head in response, but the smirk stayed. “Nothing, your majesty. After you.” He sketched an ornate bow, unlike one she’d never see him do – even in the age of her father’s reign.

_He was mocking her_.

She straightened her spine and marched upstairs, feeling self-conscious. She heard his footfalls a few steps behind.

“Oh…she can’t be serious…” Zelda murmured to herself.

There was only one room.

To make matters worse – there was only one bed in this one room.

“There-there has to be some mistake,” she continued, growing frantic. “Perhaps she forgot your room? Or it’s actually on the other side of the house?”

Link leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Nah. Those are the servants’ quarters, and she made it _very clear_ that I am to remain at your side, so…”

To Zelda’s annoyance, he seemed almost entertained. She spun to face him. “I’m _not_ sharing a bed with you!”

“Guess you’ll have to sleep on the floor, then,” he replied, laughter in his voice.

It took her several seconds of sputtering to form her next thoughts. It had been a very long time since anyone had dared to speak to her with so much insolence, so much… _disrespect,_ that she wasn’t certain how to react.

She stomped into the room and threw open a sliding closet door, snatching pillows and blankets from it in an angry whirlwind as Link watched her impassively. That old trickster! How dare she meddle like this—did she think herself clever?

Zelda thrust the bundle of blankets into Link’s crossed arms, nearly throwing him off balance.

“You’re not sleeping here.”

He raised his brows. “Uh, yeah I am. I have to _guard_ you, remember?”

“I know,” She said curtly, standing in the doorframe of the room. “That’s why you’ll be sleeping right there.”

Link glanced down at his feet. “Here on the floor,” he echoed flatly.

“Yes. Right outside my room, so you can make sure no one can enter and make a threat on my life.” Now was her turn to smirk.

He said nothing. He only stood, mess of blankets held to his chest, glowering.

“Well! It is quite late. I shall be retiring. Good night!”

He was still standing there, rage burning in his eyes when she shut the door to her room.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

Lola was lonely.

Her father had left in a hurry with the Princess and some other soldiers for Kakariko, and at the hour it was already, she knew better than to expect him to return tonight.

Looks like she’d have to get her dinner in the Dining Hall again.

It’s not that she particularly minded the concept; after all, the food was always copious, varied, and delicious. But something about huddling in an occupied corner of the room, trying to ignore the curious stares and hushed whispers as she self-consciously nibbled on roast chicken was…stressful.

She missed the quiet, cozy dinners with her dad in their Lurelin home. She missed the smell of frying fish, the gentle roar of the waves, the warm lighting of their living room…

Here in the castle, her footsteps echoing against the grand, tapestry-lined stone walls, those times couldn’t have felt more distant.

Her thoughts came crashing to a halt with as she ran headfirst into someone.

“Whoa, almost winded me there!” Valen laughed, steadying her by theshoulders.

Lola tried to choke out an apology, but was only able to muster a startled squeak.

Valen grinned in a way that was surely meant to put her at ease, but something about it felt almost wolfish to Lola. “Hey, hey—no need to stress. I won’t have you thrown in a dungeon like in the days of old!”

She attempted to smile politely at his joke, but with his hands still gripping her shoulders and his strangely lupine eyes bearing down at her, she mustered only an upward flicker of her lips.

“Where were you headed in such a hurry, anyway?” he asked.

Lola swallowed involuntarily before answering. “The Dining Hall. Just gonna get some dinner.” To her chagrin, her voice was low and meek. 

“ _Dining Hall?”_ He sputtered dismissively. “That’s for plebeians! Surely a young woman of your _birthright_ deserves better! Why don’t you join _me_ for dinner? It’d be much quieter!” His eyes flicked downwards before settling back to her own.

Discomfort grew into cold panic. He still held her by the shoulders, gentle but firm. She didn’t understand what he meant by birthright –did he even know who she was? Was he mocking her father’s lack of Royal blood? Something about being called a “young woman” also bothered her; the idea of womanhood felt so far away it was an intangible concept.

What she found most uncomfortable of all, however, was the way he looked at her. He didn’t look at her the way most adults looked at children—annoyed, or charmed, or bemused, or disinterested. Valen, however…

His hazel eyes smoldered like dying embers. His gaze was oppressive, coating her skin right through her clothes like rancid oil. His mouth was parted ever so slightly, and every so or often, his tongue would dart out, wetting his bottom lip.

It wouldn’t be until years later – a decade, even – that she would truly understand what his expression was.

 “That’s…very nice of you,” she said cautiously, willing herself not to break eye contact. “But I have my friend waiting for me in the Dining Hall. She’ll get mad at me if I don’t show up.”

This was of course a lie. She had never had many friends even back in Lurelin, and certainly had none here. If Valen was skeptical, however, he didn’t show it.

“Is that so,” he asked, finally releasing her shoulders. “Well, we wouldn’t want you stranding your friend, now, would we?” He straightened himself out, his expression tightening into a smile that would appear affable without the prior context. “Maybe next time, then?”

Lola smiled weakly and nodded, eager to escape his presence. “Next time, yeah.”

He winked at her conspiratorially before striding away, and Lola decided she wasn’t so hungry anymore.

* * *

 

Zelda wasn’t certain what she had been expecting. The term “ancient underground archives” to her brought images of dank, musty cellars filled with cobwebs and rotting books. These, however, were ancient _Sheikah_ underground archives and so naturally, everything about them was sterile and… _tech-y_.

To Link, if he didn’t know any better, these archives could have been mistaken for another shrine – just much more limited in size, and filled with rows and rows of tomes. Now-familiar terminals were also placed at the end of each bookshelf.

“Are you still in possession of the Sheikah slate?” Paya asked him as they passed one of the terminals.

“I returned it to Dr. Purah,” Zelda answered in his stead.

Paya looked caught off guard for a moment. “Oh. Well, if…either of you were still in possession of it, then you could download the entire collection onto it.”

Zelda raised her brows, impressed. Now she wished she still had it.

“The Dark Arts section is here,” Paya said, stopping before a shelf indistinguishable from the others. “I believe there is a tome or two on necromancy…” She regarded the Princess nervously, like a puppy unsure whether she’d be punished or praised.

“Thank you, Mistress Paya.” Zelda said politely before turning her attention to the bookshelf.

Link stood a few paces behind them, his eyes trained on some distant point, quiet as a stone. He hadn’t so much as made a sound all morning, and it unnerved Paya. She’d never known him to be particularly loquacious, but this behavior was very different from the observant, snarky young man with a mischievous glint she had known before.  

Of course, had she known him as he was before the Calamity, his behavior wouldn’t have seemed so strange to her.

With the princess absorbed in her books, Paya took the opportunity to timidly touch his wrist.

She might as well have splashed him in the face with water. His eyes went wide for a split second, and his body seized in surprise. Paya felt her face grow hot when his questioning, electric blue gaze focused on her.

“I’m so sorry for startling you Master Link,” she whispered. “I…I just wanted to see if you were alright.”

His look softened, but somehow that only made her heart pound harder. He opened his mouth to respond. “I--”

He cut himself off as if he had nearly revealed something secret, smile faltering. He rubbed the side of his face wearily and shrugged.  “I don’t think so.”

Paya was surprised at his honesty, and unsure what to say. “Do—would you want to talk about it?”

Link inhaled through his nose and looked upwards, considering. After a moment, he placed a hand on Paya’s shoulder and smiled warmly at her. “You’re a really sweet person, Paya. You deserve to have people worrying after _you_ , not the other way around.”

He removed his hand to brush an errant lock of blond hair from his face. “I’ll be waiting near the exit. If she takes too long“ –he raised his chin in the direction of the Princess— “then you can tell her I’m harassing you that we urgently need to return to the castle.”

The heat from his hand was still present, and her stomach was still twisting (not unpleasantly) as she watched him saunter away.

Another half hour or so passed before Zelda finally turned from the bookshelf, a pile of tomes in her arms. She nodded affirmation that she was finished to Paya, a pleased expression on her face.

Link was leaning against the wall near the exit platform, bouncing his knee impatiently. As the two women approached him, his eyes went straight down to a smaller tome in Zelda’s arms that appeared unrelated to the rest.

“I rather thought Lolita would like this one,” Zelda explained. “She told me all about how interested she is in Sheikah culture and technology.” She beamed a large smile at him in spite of the cold stare he directed at her, then brushed past him. “We best be getting back to the Castle now. I suppose we’ve dallied long enough.”

The ride back to the castle was uneventful and thankfully, fairly short.  Zelda was very eager to start her research. She also thrummed with the desire to see Lolita once again, damn what her treacherous _sperm-donor_ had to say about it.

An olive-skinned young woman clad in the ornamental outfit of the Royal Guard stood to greet them. She bowed low to Zelda as Link helped her off of her horse, not getting up until the Princess addressed her.

“No crises while I was away, I presume?” Zelda asked as she handed off her horse to one of the handlers that came rushing to aid the party’s return.

Aya shook her head. “No your majesty. Things were perfectly quiet here.”

The way the young woman stole furtive glances at Link did not go unnoticed by Zelda. The extent to which it annoyed her surprised her.   _Does there exist one woman in this blasted kingdom not impressed by this man?_

Zelda gathered her books, intending to head straight to her study. Aya, however, didn’t move from her path.

“Ah, forgive me, Your Majesty.  The Chief Advisor has requested an audience with you”—her eyes darted to Link—“Both of you”.

* * *

 

Link hated this stupid Audience chamber.  He hated the giant, gaudy sculpture of the Hylian Crest –a monument to Hyrule’s failures. He hated the way light refracted through its giant stained-glass windows, turning the evening light into blood-like splotches across every surface. He hated how everyone’s voices were amplified by the natural acoustics of the vaulted stone ceilings.

Most of all, however, he hated what it represented. It was a reminder that he was not a free man; he was beholden to the voices of authority, no matter how great his desire to rebuke them.

Zelda sat in her throne on an elevated platform with Link standing beside her, his whole body taut with potential kinetic energy.  He appeared rather as a precariously restrained guard dog.

“Welcome back, your majesty,” Rayu bowed before them with surprising fluidity. Did he not need a cane? Link could have sworn he used to have a cane. Even if he didn’t used to have a cane, didn’t the few people who reached his impossible age typically use one? Why didn’t—

“You requested an Audience with us. Were you that eager to hear of our experience in Kakariko that you couldn’t wait for the memo I would prepare by the end of the week?” Zelda was annoyed, and not doing much to hide it. This made Link even more anxious. He wanted to leap to the rafters, slide down the tapestries, _rip the intestines from the old asshole before him and wear them like a fur boa—_

Rayu waved a hand dismissively. “No, no, that’s not what I wanted to speak with you about.” He tented his fingers. “I wanted to speak about the girl.”

A startled sort of sound escaped Link’s throat. Instinctively Zelda dug her finger nails into his forearm in warning, then let go just as suddenly.

Ignoring them, Rayu continued. “I understand things have been fairly under wraps thus far, but I still think it’s important that we’re all on the same page of the matter.” He paused, but no one spoke. “We are in agreement that for now, interactions between the child and Her Majesty must be minimal and clandestine.”

Link could feel Zelda tense, but otherwise she remained quiet. Still, something about Rayu’s words echoed through his thoughts. _For now, for now, for now_

“Similarly,” Rayu said, “Be sure that interactions between the two of you remain cordial and professional. We don’t want any unsavory rumors, especially now that Her Majesty is a” –he gave Zelda a significant look—“promised woman.”

Link’s stomach constricted at this, despite himself. Disappointingly, Zelda didn’t seem to react in any visible way.  Part of him still hoped she had been forced into this arrangement.

“I understand,” Zelda responded coolly, inclining her head. “And I assure you that you needn’t worry. Is that all you wished to speak of?”

The old man smiled smugly, which made Link’s not-so-dormant desire for violence flare. Outwardly, he only expressed this with a tightened jawline and by shifting his weight impatiently from one foot to the other. He was spring-loaded like a panther.

For the first time during the audience, Rayu turned his attention to Link. “Indeed. I see your Knight is growing quite restless, so I won’t waste any more of your time.” He bowed again, and again Link was perturbed by how easily he did so. “I bid you good evening.”

Once he left, Zelda exhaled, visibly relieved to be out of Rayu’s presence. Her reprieve was short-lived when she remembered who was next to her. She stood up, eager to leave, and looked around for her books. To her surprise, she realized they were bundled in Link’s arms.

“I’ll take that, thank you—“she quipped, reaching to grab them back.

Link didn’t move to release them. “They’re pretty heavy. I’ll escort you back to your study with them.”

Zelda opened her mouth to refuse, but stopped when she saw his expression—pleading, almost. Well. What was the harm in allowing him to carry them back to her study for her? Besides, she had to admit, she was rather weary…

She cleared her throat and straightened her dress. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it.”

They made their way to her study in a heavy silence.  “You can put them on my desk, right there.” Zelda said after unlocking the door.

Wordlessly he did so, but he didn’t turn back immediately. Instead, he took a moment to study the smaller tome on her desk, the tips of his fingers gliding contemplatively across its cover.

“I never meant to suggest you couldn’t see her,” he said quietly. He turned his head to regard her over his shoulder. “I—I made things complicated. For you and…and especially for her. I…um.” He drew a long breath, then turned his whole body to face her.  His cheeks were flushed, and a muscle in his jaw was twitching. “I won’t…stand in your way of building a relationship with her. I just…trust that you’ll think of her needs, first.”

His words sucked the air out of Zelda’s lungs. Her chest tightened in its absence, and all at once she wanted to scream at him, strike at him, throw herself against his chest, kiss him, _fuck_ him. She did none of these things, of course. She only stood rigid and numb, vaguely aware of the prickling sensation in her nose and behind her eyes that warned of tears.

Link scanned her face anxiously. He pressed his eyes shut and tightened his hands into fists before relaxing into a much more neutral, if not somber, expression. “Good evening, your Majesty.” He dipped his head respectfully before leaving on silent feet, quietly closing the door behind him.

Zelda had no idea how long she had been sitting there, her eyes glued thoughtlessly at one of the open tomes when she heard Valen enter the study behind her.

“You’re getting much more bold about coming in uninvited,” she snapped, though her voice held none of the energy or emotion that it typically would.

“Oh, well, you know. I figured you’d been deprived of my presence for over 24 hours by now—you were overdue!” Valen leaned over her to get a good look at what she was doing. He picked up one of the large tomes and dangled it by one cover so that it fell open. “What’s this? Looking to learn some dark magic?”

Zelda closed it and wrested it from his hand. “Quit it! Don’t treat it so carelessly, it’s not mine. And I’m trying to understand what’s been happening in my bloody kingdom.”

“Ah, yes. Princesses have to do that, don’t they.” He peered over her shoulder at the smaller tome. “And what’s this one? ‘Sheikah Culture: Past and Present’. Rather basic for you, no?”

“ _That_ one,” Zelda said, sliding the book away from his reach, “Is for Lolita. She’s very interested in Sheikah culture.”

Valen leaned against the wall and began to play with his necklace, twisting the deep-red gemstone between his fingers. “But won’t your Knight ex-boyfriend freak out on you again? Last time you said he borderline threatened you, didn’t you?”

“No,” she sighed. The image of Link’s face from earlier –vulnerable, sorrowful, _fearful—_ replayed in her mind. Though she wanted to hold on to her anger at the _pain_ he put her through…thinking of his face like that made it difficult. 

She looked up at Valen. “Valen…are you certain you’re fine with the terms of the marriage?”

Valen raised his brows in surprise, then pushed himself off the wall. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I be? I get a fancy title and get to pretend I like women, you get the Council off your back and a King Consort who will legally adopt Lola as his heir. Plus,”—his face took on a devilish expression—“If ever you decide you want to start sleeping again with one of your Knights, you’re free to do so—granted I get to do the same!”

On a different evening, Zelda might have found this funny. Currently though, her emotions were all twisted together like vines of poison ivy, and all she could muster was a look of sour dejection. 

Valen sputtered to correct himself. “Did something happen? If he did something to you, I can go give him a piece of my mind.”

She didn’t look up, her head propped up in-between her open palms. “No. Just…I have a lot going on right now. If you don’t mind, I’d rather like to be alone.”

“Oh, of course!” Valen backed his way out of the study. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

She didn’t bother to wait for the “click” of the door closing before reaching for a bottle of wine.

* * *

 

Link burst through the door of the cottage apartment. “Lola?” he called out, looking around the empty foyer.

Lola emerged at the top of the stairway, wearing a wrinkled pair of wool pajamas. Her hair was disheveled, and it was obvious it hadn’t been brushed in at least the entire day. Link appraised her with his mouth pulled to the side in an unimpressed grimace. “Goddess-sake, you’re already in your pajamas? It’s not even dark yet!”

She shrugged. “Yeah, but you know, I was cold and they’re comfortable, so…” She didn’t tell him the fact that she actually hadn’t changed at all today, though by the way he was looking at her, he probably already knew.

He turned away back towards the door. “Yeah, well, get dressed. We’re going on a walk.”

A groan escaped her throat. She knew what “walk” meant. Her dad never just went on a “walk”. “Walks” were relaxing, meditative strolls through nature. “Dad Walks” (as she had coined them years ago), involved running, climbing, accidentally stumbling upon a mob of bokoblins, panicking, an explosion or two, and usually ended in a few cuts and bruises (and tears, in her case).

“Daddy _please,_ I was reading. Can’t I just—“

“You have five minutes.” He gave her a challenging look. “I’ll be outside.”

It took her a little more than five minutes for her to pull on some warm comfortable clothes, wash her face, and brush her teeth, but Link didn’t comment on this when she came stumbling out of the front door. To her chagrin two horses waited outside, knickering and pawing at the ground.

She hated horses.

Reading the panic in her eyes, Link took the reins of the smaller one in one hand and held out his other to her. “This one’s just a pony. He’s extremely docile, so don’t worry. They usually use him to train with small children.”

She looked at him dubiously, but accepted his outstretched hand.

He kneeled down and knitted his hands together in a sort of hammock. Lola took a deep breath of courage, then allowed him to boost her up onto the pony’s back. To her surprise, it didn’t so much as sway with her additional weight. Perhaps it’d be okay after all.

Link mounted his own horse, a battle-trained white mare with brown mottling. He took Lola’s reins and roped them around the saddle of his own horse. “That way you don’t have to worry about anything besides not falling.”

With that, he kicked his horse into a canter, then a full gallop, and Lola’s pony easily followed its lead.  The cold, mid-autumn air whipped around them, and Lola held desperately to her saddle’s horn cap as the paved surroundings of civilization blurred into pastoral fields. 

After some time Link slowed the horses to an easy trot, and the knot in Lola’s stomach eased away.

As they approached the base of a hill, Link hopped off of his horse, looping the reins around a squat stone sculpture before helping Lola to the ground. When she looked up at him questioningly, he jerked his head towards the hill in a bid to follow him.

The hill was moderately steep, and Lola huffed and heaved her way to the top. Her father stood pensively under a tree, surrounded by three or four more of the squat little statues. He didn’t turn to look at her as she approached him, though she was certain he was aware of her presence.

The castle appeared surprisingly distant, and a good part of Central Hyrule was visible from their perch. The setting sun painted the land in swaths of peach, orange and red, stirring within Lola a strange sort of dynamic serenity. A gust of wind swirled around her, its icy tendrils clawing their way through her wool doublet.

“Cold?” Her father asked, noticing her tucking her gloved hands into her armpits, and the pink glow of her cheeks and the tips of her ears. He beckoned her closer, then wrapped her in his cloak – a dark gray hooded fabric lined with traditional Hylian motifs. “Better?”

Lola nodded gratefully, relishing in the redolent warmth of the cloak. They fell into a comfortable silence then, lulled by the rustling, whispering sounds of nature, each lost in their own thoughts.

Her father’s voice, smooth and airy as the evening breeze, cut through. “Were you happy?”

She swung her head to look at him, puzzled. “What do you mean?”

He chewed the inside of his cheek thoughtfully and searched her face, as if he would find his words there. “If you had to choose between growing up in the Castle as things are now—but with two parents—and the childhood you had with just me in Lurelin…” he trailed off, not bothering to vocalize the rest of his question, and returned his gaze to the horizon looking vaguely flustered.

How could she even answer something like that? She would be lying to deny that she had often fantasized about having a mother—one who would take her side on things, insist to her father that there was nothing wrong in her interest in Sheikah artifacts, help her style her hair and put on makeup, give her womanly advice…

…But she couldn’t imagine growing up in the Castle, where everything – its walls, its gardens, the people that wandered its halls—were perfectly manicured, and nothing was out of place. And though most of the time she found her father erratic and irritating, she in retrospect cherished the quiet moments they shared. Part of her even enjoyed his embarrassing displays of affection. Because despite everything, deep down she knew how much he loved her, and how hard he was trying.

She shrugged. “You know, I used to really, _really_ want a mom. And I was super frustrated when we came here, ‘cause I thought that I’d finally get to meet her, and then we’d become like a big happy family, you know? But…well, I know that’s not gonna happen.”

Link’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Because,” she continued, “I know it’s basically a fairy-tale. I don’t know what happened to her a long time ago, but whatever it is, I know that she’s not coming back, and that you’ve been like… trying to protect me from the truth.” She sighed. “But anyway…yeah, besides that, of course I was happy with you in Lurelin.” She gave Link a timid look, hopeful she didn’t say anything that offended him.

He was fully facing her now, shadows and blond hair obscuring most of his face. He cupped her cheek with a trembling hand.

“My Lulu,” he exhaled, his voice barely above a whisper, “I’ve lied to you.”

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

* * *

 

Ten Years Prior

* * *

 

Link doesn’t typically feel dread the way other people experience it. Dread for him _isn’t_ a cold iron grip on the stomach, or the subtle expectation that something –who knows what –will most certainly go horribly wrong.

The type of things that would usually cause a person to feel dread—an ominous rumble of thunder while he’s stuck above the treeline with a metal sword strapped to his back; the glow of a Lynel’s focused glare; the metallic _throng_ of an activated guardian—instill in him a kind of anxious anticipation. It isn’t wholly unpleasant, and he’s come to understand that he even _thrives_ in it.

Tonight, however, is different.

It is heavy on his chest, and fights against each breath he attempts to take. His nerves are electric; he cannot sleep. He rolls out of bed, not making any particular effort to leave Zelda’s sleep undisturbed. Anyway, she is used to his restlessness by now. She stirs, but slips easily back into slumber.

His bare feet patter against the frigid stone floor. He is bare-chested. His hair is unfastened and flows loosely behind him. If someone were to pass him, they would certainly have reason for suspicion. He is single-minded in his goal, and briskly follows a path he doesn’t understand. He only knows he must get there quickly.

As he approaches the nursery, his stomach tightens into knots. The silence is suffocating. It is not a peaceful silence. It is a silence ripe with the promise of ill-fortune.

With death.

Link will recall the next few moments with a numb detachedness.

In the nursery, the silhouette of a figure looms over their child’s crib.  He hears a desperate rustling, and a choked mewling – like that of a struggling kitten. The figure barely has time to notice Link’s presence. Its form goes rigid in surprise, and in the next second Link has driven a fire iron through its throat.

The baby is screaming now, her tiny chest shuddering and wheezing, as if she’s desperately trying to breathe in all the air she has been denied at once.

The figure is screaming, too. Or, well, it’s trying to. It sounds like it’s underwater, it’s gurgling so much. It’s obvious it’s having trouble breathing.

How fitting.

Suddenly, there is light. The guards have come, shouting, weapons clanging. Zelda too is awake, and she is here too. They all come crashing to a halt, staring in shock at…something. Maybe at him. Maybe at the figure. Maybe at the whole fucking thing.

“What…what happened…?” Zelda asks breathlessly. She looks horrified. She approaches Link slowly, her hands out in front of her as if to appease a panicked horse.

“It’s not hers,” Link says. He is holding the baby, a blood-soaked hand patting rhythmically on her back in an effort to sooth her. It’s not really working, though. There is blood everywhere. It’s on the floor. It’s on the walls. It’s on the baby. His hair is turning stiff with it.

Zelda opens her arms, and the baby – still crying – reaches out for her, sobbing “ _Mamamamama_ ”.

Link gives her up easily, and his attention is already at the figure. He can see now that it is a young man—barely more than a child, really—and it appears that he is wearing the gray-and-blue garb of a squire for the Hylian Army. But, well.

There really is a lot of blood.

The next few weeks are spent arguing. Link insists that the squire was hired or blackmailed into the deed by…he doesn’t know who exactly. Probably Rayu. Who else, anyway, besides the man who very obviously viewed their child as at best a worrisome nuisance, at worst a threat to the Crown’s legitimacy? His ideal outcome would be to torture him until he reveals his guilt and any accomplices, then execute them. But he is willing to compromise and settle for just letting them rot in a dungeon, too.

Zelda asserts that they must look at this logically. They cannot simply _torture_ a man when the biggest evidence against him is viewing their union in an unfavorable light. She needs proof, and besides, hopefully this was just a case of a young squire gone rogue. Of course, they would have been able to find out, had he not been killed. Link takes this as an affront.

Besides, Zelda says, they’ll keep Lolita safe from now on. She will remain hidden in Kakariko, kept in warm security with Impa and her granddaughter, Paya. No one will be able to lay an ill-intentioned hand on her there.

This makes Link very, very angry. He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. His eyes are wide, the bright blue irises dancing wildly. His nostrils are flared, his mouth is pursed, and his chest heaves almost laboriously.  He spins on his heels and strides out, his hair – now red-tinged – billowing behind him.

This is the last time she sees him –and Lolita—until the day of her engagement announcement, nearly ten years later. She falls asleep that night alone, and wakes up to the fated letter beside her pillow.

And the rest

Is history.

* * *

 

Valen briskly descended the staircase from Zelda’s study, a sense of urgency driving him forward. He probably had nothing to worry about, but one could never be too safe.

He entered the main Keep and continued downward, until the winding stairs were not lit by fading daylight, but by torchlight.  The air grew dank, and the polished marble steps and walls covered with blue and gold tapestries gradually became bare stone.

These were the bowels of the Castle, and they were very creepy. Over a century ago, countless enemies against the Kingdom were imprisoned down here – either to await execution, or to wither away in darkness and misery. Many of them, most certainly, were of his people. He imagined their remains – probably not much more than dry bones and dust, by now – were still in their cells. Didn’t the Calamity Ganon burst forth from these very dungeons? He winced at the thought. What a terrible way to die.

And yet, what poetic justice against the bloodthirsty people of Hyrule.

Past the dungeons, he could see a large wooden door, candlelight leaking through its gaps. He knocked twice, then pushed through.

“I find your habit of bursting in unannounced extremely obnoxious,” Rayu said, his stooped back facing the door.

Valen shrugged. “Well, you were expecting me. And anyways, I knocked. I’d say that counts as an announcement, wouldn’t you?” He took a seat at an aged round table – one of the few pieces of furniture in the spartan room. “Oh!” he exclaimed, picking up a recently-used wineglass from the table and rolling it in his hand. “Shouldn’t you be careful about alcohol? It’s going to take a few more weeks until you’re aged down enough for your body to properly—“

“One glass won’t kill me!” Rayu snarled, finally turning his head to glare at Valen. “Besides, my joints are killing me. I deserve a little respite every now and again. Maybe if this whole process was faster, I wouldn’t have to resort to such measures.”

Valen made a noncommittal sound as he leaned back against the creaking chair. He remembered the pain of old age. Luckily, though, that was a long, _long_ time ago. “Sure, if you want to end up like that Sheikah researcher did. Be my guest! I’m sure everybody will be _thrilled_ to hear why you suddenly look like an eight year old.”

Rayu turned away again, grumbling. “How are the preparations going?”

An amused laugh erupted from the younger-looking man. “You really are an impatient old bastard, aren’t you? This is a delicate operation involving real human feelings – not that you would know anything about that. Progress is going well. The Princess seems to like me. The kid and her dad don’t seem to be huge fans, but so far they’ve been keeping their distance, so I suppose that’s just as well.”

“Don’t forget that the ‘ _dad’_ commands the Royal Guard. If we don’t have the military, then—“

“Oh, come off it. I’ll take care of them, don’t worry about that. They’re a non-issue.”

Rayu regarded Valen with a doubtful expression on his already sour face, but didn’t press the subject.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Valen continued, eying Rayu pointedly, “There’s one potential complication that might require your intervention. Dr. Princess got her hands on some ancient Sheikah literature on the Dark Arts.”

The old man’s rheumy eyes widened, but Valen waved away his fear dismissively. “It’s not a direct matter of concern – from what I could see, a lot of it is from after the Sheikah-Yiga fracture, so it’s not like she’s going to easily trace the methods. But, still. One can never be too safe, you know.”

Rayu nodded slowly. “I’ll monitor the situation, see what can be done.”

Valen flashed a toothy grin. “I appreciate it, good sir. Now if you’ll excuse me”—he got up and stretched his back—“I’ve got wedding preparations to make.”

* * *

 

“Hey! Spot me?”

Link lowered himself from the pull-up bar to face a sweat-sheened Aya, who grinned up at him.

“Sure. Suppose I could use a break, anyway.” He hopped down and followed her to the free-weights section of the Military Training Grounds through the cacophony of effortful grunting and clanging metal.

She positioned herself in front of a large iron barbell, bent forward, consciously hoping her scantily-covered chest was noticeable while Link stood in front of her, trying very hard to pretend _not_ to notice it.

“So,” she said after finishing a few reps, “How are you readjusting to life in the Castle?”

Link looked caught off-guard by the question. “How am I—fine…? I suppose.” He pondered the question a bit more as he stretched his back. “Not sure I’m cut out for it long term, though. Too many…” –he waved a hand in loose circles, trying to gesticulate what he struggled to name—“…I don’t know. Complications.”

Aya cocked her head curiously, trying to hide a charmed smile. “Complications, huh? How so?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t like structure.” This wasn’t the whole story, of course, but that was no one’s business but his own.

She sputtered in surprised laughter, but caught herself when he looked at her with a flat expression of mild confusion.

“Sorry,” She said, dabbing her forehead with her towel. “It’s just that…you’re Captain-General of the Royal Guard – and definitely not a rookie – and you’re telling me that you don’t like structure.”

Again he shrugged, as if to say, ‘Is there an issue?’

Now it was Aya’s turn to shrug, at a loss of how to respond. She straightened up as an idea struck her, and regarded Link with a sly smile. “Hey,” she said conspiratorially.

“Hey.” He parroted. He had since sat on the ground, and was sketching abstract little lines in the dirt with a stick. He really had the attention span of a puppy.

“How about we take a break tonight after duty? Like, we could have a coffee or something in Castletown, and…” she trailed off at Link’s plain disinterest.

“Castletown is a bit much for me,” he said, his mouth pulled in a frown of distaste. “And I’ve already been yelled at enough for leaving Castle grounds without permission.” Then, realizing the look of disappointment and hurt on Aya’s face, he added quickly, “But if you’d like, I can make you dinner at my place. It’s not an exact change of scenery, but it’s away from the main Keep. I have my own garden and everything.”

Aya looked at him in eager surprise, inciting a blush to bloom across his cheeks and on the tips of his ears. “Oh, goddesses. _Please_ don’t take that the wrong way.”

“I get it!” Aya said with a laugh. “I’d love dinner at your place. There’s no way anything that you’d cook would be worse than the slop they feed us in the Guards’ Dining Hall.” she said, her nose crinkling in a comical look of disgust.

 “Ugh. No.” he shuddered, and Aya remarked that he looked truly, deeply offended. “I definitely do more than throw random shit together in a pot, so.”

She smiled giddily. “Well, I’m excited then to eat some real food for once!”

Link smiled back. “I’m glad.” He then looked at the large wooden timepiece that bore down impatiently over the Training Grounds and grimaced. “Free time’s over.  I’ll see you tonight, then?”

Aya clapped her hands together. “See you tonight.”

* * *

 

As he placed a seasoned pork roast in the oven, Link realized that he wasn’t sure what he had gotten himself into. The dull ache from the rupture of his relationship with Zelda was still present and persistent. At best, his heartache had been a badly-healed break; misshapen and chronically painful.  He had attempted to move on at one point. Making cursory friends was easy for him, after all—women in particular tended to find him charming and endearing, if not a little fey. 

Any time he tried to move beyond surface-level pleasantries, however…well, he just… _couldn’t._  There was one particularly mortifying situation in which he had started crying in the middle of sex because the woman had moaned in such a particular way that it had reminded him of _her_ and the last thing he needed was to be reminded of _her—_

And now here he was, back where it all began. The poorly healed wounds were now being pulverized to the point of numbness. He knew very well, however, that the numbness wouldn’t last. If there was one thing he was familiar with, it was pain. And it always, _always_ hit when it was least expected.

A polite knock at the door surprised him out of his reverie.

Aya stood holding a dusty bottle of wine, grinning widely. “I have a buddy who works in the Royal cellar,” she explained, a proud gleam in her dark eyes. “This isn’t your typical shitty pomace. This is some strong _vintage_ shit.” She held it out proudly to him.

He read the label reverently, then beamed a smile at her. “Your talents are wasted in the Royal Guard,” He teased, stepping aside to let her in.

“Smells nice in here! And how cozy!” She stood in the foyer, hands on her hips, surveying her surroundings with an impressed frown. She turned back to him. “Where’s your daughter?”

Link lurched at the question. “She’s, ah…spending some time away. She was getting a little depressed here, so I thought it’d be healthy for her to get out a bit.”

Aya sensed his reluctance to say more, so she didn’t press the issue. “So you’re all alone up here?”

“I’m all alone,” he confirmed, though the possible implications of this made his stomach jump in apprehension. Or maybe excitement. It was hard to tell anymore.

He cleared his throat, denoting a change of subject. “I was thinking we could eat outside. It’s one of the last pleasant days we’re going to get before winter, so might as well enjoy it.” He paused a beat. “If that’s okay with you, of course!”

“Yeah, sounds amazing! You have such a lovely garden. If I lived here I’d probably _sleep_ out there!”

He smiled. “I’ll set things up, then. Should be ready pretty soon, anyway.”

It had been a long time since Aya had remembered eating so well. Salt and Goron Spice-crusted pork roast, braised hearty radishes, and Hylian mushroom risotto…and for desert, crepes with caramelized bananas. There was not enough time to prepare a cake, Link had explained ruefully, but next time he’d be sure to.

After dinner they sat on the wool blanket, watching the sunset as they digested in comfortable silence.  Surprisingly, it was Link who spoke first.

“You were there. In Akkala.” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Aya’s breath hitched. She took her time before responding. “Yes,” she said, her voice soft.

Link nodded, as if to himself. “So you know war, then.”

She laughed bitterly. “I guess I do. I mean, I was born way after the Age of Burning Fields, and even though life was tough before the defeat of the Calamity “ –she looked at Link pointedly as she said this, making it known that she was aware of his role in it—“violence like… _that_ …remained….kind of an abstraction, I don’t know.”

“So why did you join?”

His voice was soft –almost melodic—as he said this, but his eyes glowed with a nearly inhuman intensity that made her head swim and her heart pound.

“Because I…” her throat was too tight, her clothes were too tight, her skin was too tight, her lower abdomen was too tight. “I…want…”

Perhaps it was because of the alcohol, which made the world dip and spin around her. Perhaps it was because of the oppressive, pervasive feeling that something was _very wrong_ and time was short. Or perhaps it was because they were two people, broken in very different ways but broken and desperate all the same—

Aya leapt on him, her hands tearing at the buttons of his trousers. Link, stunned into inaction for a brief moment, was forced back on his elbows.

“Aya, _no_ …! What are you—“ he grabbed at her arms in a desperate attempt to stop her, but she was _strong_ and determined and he was too clumsy, too confused, too drunk. “Aya, _please,_ stop!” he begged, his voice rising in registry. “No, no, no, _no_ _nnghh…!“_

And then her mouth was on him, taking him in, and it was so _warm_ and her tongue was such a _perfect_ combination of rough and smooth that he could no longer speak,  only groan the remnants of a protest his brain could no longer process.

She pulled the hem of his trousers down a little bit further. The sudden absence of her hot mouth shocked him, and she turned her tongue’s attention to his hip. “What a cute tattoo…” she purred as her tongue traced the looping patterns of the inked Silent Princess that snaked up his hip.

He was no longer a conscious being. Conscious beings could feel regret, confusion, _pain…_

Wrapping his hand around the back of her head so that her short red hair was tangled within his fingers, he wrenched her head up. She gasped in pleased surprise before he crashed his lips against hers briefly, then spun her around so that her back was against his chest. In a brief fit of awareness he noted a large, strange scar on her back, almost like a brand. Then he was inside her, taking her so hard she could only babble between wrenching sobs of both pleasure and pain.

And then, just as suddenly as it began it ended, and they both collapsed fitfully next to each other, trembling as their bodies slowly drained of adrenaline.

“I know you still love her,” Aya said breathlessly, once she could say anything at all.

Link opened his mouth to speak but found he had no voice, so he only swallowed.

“I won’t ask you for anything you can’t give,” she continued, her voice still shaking along with the rest of her. Her eyes drifted down to the Silent Princess tattoo on his hip, and she gingerly reached out to brush it with her fingers.

Because he couldn’t think of anything else to say, he asked, “What was that on your back?”

She opened her eyes wide in surprise, not expecting the change of subject. “I thought every Knight got one—you didn’t?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head, troubled.

She flattened her mouth into a pensive frown for a moment. “Well, anyway.” She got shakily up to her feet. “Do you mind if I use your washroom? I got a little…messy.”

He jumped up. “Y-yes, of course! I’ll…I’ll clean all of this up. Take your time.”

Aya smoothed out her hair in vain, and offered him a shy smile. “Thanks.”

* * *

 

With a hand steadied by numbness, Zelda answered the quiet knocking on her door.

Lola stood at the doorway, looking up at her with a carefully neutral expression she could have only learned from her father. A pack hung loosely off her shoulder. “He, um, said you knew…“

“Yes,” Zelda said, confirming the unsaid words. Link had showed up at her window – as he always does, and as he always did – like some strange sort of magical stray cat. “ _I told her everything_ ,” he had said. How infuriatingly typical of him. He was as fickle as the wind, and implicitly expected her to flow with each of his flights of fancy with little regard as to how they affected her. She couldn’t begrudge him too much for it this time, however, as it meant she could see Lolita (her _daughter_!!) without the exhausting need for deception.

She stepped aside to invite the girl inside, and shut the door behind her.

Lola shifted from one foot to the other, looking around the luxurious suite. She hadn’t been here since the awkward lunch several months back. Her pack stayed hung on her shoulder.

“You can set your bag down over in the other room, there,” Zelda offered. “That one will be yours, for now.”

The young girl nodded her thanks, and cautiously made her way past the open French doors. The bedroom was nothing like her infinitesimally smaller, modest bedroom back in Lurelin.  In fact, this bedroom alone was probably equal to the entire size of the beach house, and furnished with all sorts of little details like gold-accented crown molding and floor-to-ceiling double-paned windows.

Countless stuffed animals – Sand Seals, puppies, even Bokoblin—decorated the Queen-sized canopy bed.

“If you don’t like them just let me know,” Zelda said, wringing her gloved hands nervously. “Some of them were actually mine as a girl, and even though I’m much too old for them now I didn’t have the heart to throw them away.” She picked up a stuffed Sand Seal and stroked it, her eyes soft. “Especially as some of these have survived a century of Calamity…”

Lola watched the Princess (her _mother!!_ ), her heart pounding in her ears. “No, they’re super cute. They can keep me company.”

Zelda looked up from the Sand Seal, a relieved smile brightening her face. The Princess (her _mother!!)_ was very beautiful. But when she smiled, Lola thought, she was beautiful and warm in a way that made her want to hug her. But maybe that would be inappropriate.

“So!” Zelda exclaimed, seemingly more relaxed than she had been previously. She sat on the bed and patted the space next to her, inviting Lola to sit with her. “I suppose just to make things…clear…what did he tell you, exactly?”

Lola twisted her mouth in a wary frown. Was this some sort of test? She shrugged, a hint of exasperation in the gesture. “I don’t know…everything? Like how he—“ she stopped herself, then eyed the Princess. “Maaayybe it would be better if you told me _your_ version of what happened?”

An incredulous laugh escaped Zelda’s lips. Twelve years old and the girl already had the shrewdness of a politician. Very well. It was only natural that she felt distrustful of her parents – after all, had she not grown up deceived?

“The Counsel –particularly my Chief Advisor, Rayu—did not find it appropriate in the slightest that I had fallen in love with my personal Knight and…well, that we had you.” At this Zelda looked slightly abashed, though Lola wasn’t sure why. “His reasoning was that as the kingdom was in a fragile state –well, let’s be honest, the kingdom didn’t even exist anymore—but, anyway. The kingdom was in a fragile state and needed tradition and stability for people to see it as legitimate. That, and the fact that the Sealing Power –the magic that allowed me to seal away Ganon—is carried in Royal bloodlines. _Supposedly_. Though quite honestly I’d have to do further research to confirm this, as it seems to me more of a way to justify the exceptionalism of the Royal Family—“

Getting the sense she was rambling, Zelda shook her head to dismiss the looming rabbit hole. “The point is…your existence troubled them. They felt it was safest to keep you hidden, and forbade me from acknowledging your lineage.” A shadow fell over her golden features. “This…caused a lot of issues between your father and I, as he wanted me to fight back, and I just…couldn’t.” She said this softly, the pain palpable in her voice.

“And then,” she continued, drawing a breath, “One night, someone tried to kill you. Thank goodness your father –Hylia guide him—was able to sense that something wasn’t right and stopped it.” She pressed her eyes shut against the thought. “He insisted it was the Counsel who was responsible, and wanted…rather dire consequences. Of course I couldn’t go along with what he wanted—you can’t just murder people on a suspicion! And, well…then…”

“…He took me and left,” Lola finished quietly.

Zelda nodded, her mouth pressed in a tight line. Lola stared at her thoughtfully, her eyebrows furrowed in a troubled frown. “So you didn’t believe him?”

“I…!” Zelda reeled back. “I understood why he had his suspicions, but there were many other possibilities as well. And politically, you can’t just…persecute your entire Counsel for what amounts to a hunch. It’s…absurd!”

“Hm.” The sound was one like a confirmation, but its tone, coupled with the look of absolute disappointment that Lola now regarded her with, made Zelda realize that her logic hadn’t won the girl over.

To Lola, this entire business was very confusing. Who was to blame? Who could she be angry at? The Counsel was the easy answer, but it wasn’t a satisfying one. After all, the battle was between her father on one side, her mother on the other. Only one could be right. Right? And if her mother was _defending_ the Really Bad Guy (the Counsel), well then…

Maybe that made her mother wrong in this situation?

Lola hugged her arms around herself and pretended to study the plush white rug beneath her feet. She was suddenly very tired, even though she hadn’t done much of anything that day.

Zelda placed a tentative hand on Lola’s knee. “Are you okay, dear?” she asked sweetly, a worried crease in her brow.

Lola pursed her lips together and nodded, but didn’t look up. “I’m fine, just a little sleepy. Maybe I’ll just take a bath and go straight to bed, if that’s okay with you?”

“O-of course! You have your own washroom, just through there. Do you know how to draw a bath? The water comes out hot automatically,” Zelda said, uncertain how standard such technology was outside of the Castle.

“Yes, thanks,” the girl said, still avoiding her eye. She stood up from the bed pulled out a comfortable-looking pair of cotton pants and a loose shirt from her pack. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Zelda replied, watching the girl disappear into the washroom before leaving the room, her chest tightening.

She really was destined for failure, wasn’t she? She had been gifted everything from birth – power, wealth, a promising destiny – and what she hadn’t squandered with her own ineptitude, she had inadvertently given away.

Hylia, help her.

She collapsed on her own bed spread eagle, and wished (not for the first time) that the downy sheets could swallow her whole. That she could cease to exist as a separate entity, becoming one with what was soft, and pleasant, and simple.  She lay like that for a good while, until she suddenly felt compelled to get up and spy on Link’s cottage below. She much was too curious a creature to become a comforter, she decided.  It was a guilty pastime, but one that she only indulged in because of the convenience. Or so she told herself.

She took a seat at the large window that overlooked the garden in which Link’s cottage was nestled, obscured by the sheer window curtains except for her face, which peered between them (she was certain he wouldn’t be able to see up through her window anyway, but she still hid out of prudence).

When the weather was nicer she would often see Lola lounging below with a book, or simply gazing up at the sky. More recently, she would see her with a multi-colored spread of fabric before her, sewing dutifully. Sometimes her father would return from his post and pause before her, watching her work for a bit before inevitably doing something annoying, like push her off balance with his foot or –based on Lola’s reaction—make asinine suggestions for her project.

This evening, she wasn’t certain what she expected to see. Perhaps for Link to be sitting pensively on the grass, watching the sun set over Hyrule. Perhaps for him to be not outside at all, and for the only sign of his presence to be the lit up windows and a gentle column of chimney smoke billowing up from below.

What she actually ended up seeing, however, was the last thing she had expected. Link was outside, sitting amongst a small smorgasbord. That much was fairly unsurprising.  What _wasn’t_ ordinary, however, was that he wasn’t alone. He was with…a woman. A familiar-looking one, at that. A fairly high-ranking officer among the Royal Guard, if she wasn’t mistaken. And he—

And they—

 _What_ —

It is one thing to resign yourself to leaving the past behind; to accept what you have lost, and to move on from it.

It is quite another, however, to actually go through with the act of letting go—especially when confronted with just what you have lost, no matter how much you’ve convinced yourself that you no longer wanted it.

A puzzling coalescence of emotions – anger, hurt, betrayal, desire, regret –and memories surged forward, engulfing her. She was tumbling in a wave of confusion, spiraling out of control with no way to get it back.

Except, there was.

She had decided on a date.

Looked like she’d have a winter wedding after all.


	11. Chapter 11

The gentle tinkling of silverware awoke Lola to a brief cloud of confusion. She was in a large, downy bed –much too luxurious to be her own—

Oh.

Oh, yeah.

She untangled herself from the massive comforter until she found herself free from the bed’s embrace and timidly eased the door to the foyer open.

“Ah, good morning! You’re just in time – breakfast arrived just a few minutes ago.” Her mother chirped. She sat a small round table set for two, her long golden hair cascading over one shoulder with a liquid fluidity.

Lola took the seat across from her and tucked an especially wild cowlick behind her ear. Her hair was finally becoming long enough to almost stay put without the aid of barrettes, but she was painfully reminded of what a superior creature her mother was.  She was often told about how attractive her father was, as well – typically in the context of confusion as to why she had turned out…less so. Her face was too round, her cheeks too full, her nose too snub. She had none of the scarred yet seraphic beauty of her father, nor the full, maiden-like splendor of her mother.

Life wasn’t fair.

Zelda poured tea into the empty cup in front of Lola. “Milk?” she asked, raising a silver creamer. Lola nodded.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked as she poured the milk, an almost aggressive cheerfulness in her voice.

“Uh, yeah. The bed was super comfy, thanks.”

She still wasn’t certain as to how she felt right now – about learning that her mother was the legendary _Princess of Hyrule (_ did that mean her erratic, aloof dad was the Hero of Legend?), or about the fact that she was not welcome as heir to the kingdom, or about the fact that she was _right here in the Castle with her._

Sometimes it was easier to resign herself to not thinking about much at all.

“Well. I was thinking,” -Zelda daintily placed a few pieces of fruit on a slice of pancake with her fork and knife- “that we could go on a little field survey to the Ancient Tech Lab in Hateno Village.  I quite think you’ll love Dr. Purah – she’s done a lot of fascinating research that was”—her gaze grew cloudy with emotion—“imperative to Hyrule’s defeat of the Calamity.”

Excitement thrummed in Lola’s chest. The Ancient Tech lab? Meet a real Sheikah scientist?! Would her father be upset?”

It didn’t matter – her _mother_ was saying yes! Having two parents was great.

Reading the excitement in her daughter’s face, Zelda brightened. “How would you like to head out after lunch? It’s quite a ways away –I’d say the better part of a day’s journey by automated carriage…”

Lola nearly leapt from her chair in excitement. “How about after breakfast then? We could pack a lunch to-go and eat in the carriage!” she said breathlessly, her large blue eyes twinkling.

Zelda giggled. It was a tinkling, bell-like sound and it made Lola feel giddy and warm, her turmoil momentarily forgotten. “That sounds like a wonderful plan, Lolita. Though in that case, I shouldn’t dally. I’ve got to make a few preparations before we are to head out.”

The younger girl straightened in her seat, curiosity opening her cherub features. “What kind of preparations?” She ventured.

A sad sort of smile spread across the Princess’ full lips. “Wedding ones.”

Lola felt the breath sucked out of her lungs. “So…you’re really gonna m-marry the—Sir Val…”

Nausea kept her from finishing the second syllable of his name. Her mother pulled her lips to the side in an apologetic smile of confirmation. Lola wasn’t sure why she felt so deflated. What had she been hoping? For her mother to suddenly remember the love story she shared with her former knight? For her to cast away the expectations of her kingdom and break off the engagement? She knew better than to expect such things.

That didn’t make the pain the loss of such dreams brought any easier to bear, though.

Zelda stroked the stream of hair over her shoulder anxiously. “Does that bother you, my love?”

_Yes,_ Lola wanted to answer. _Yes because he makes me feel awful and I don’t like him and daddy still loves you so much but you can’t see it._

But Lola said none of these things. Instead, she forced a smile and shook her head.

“No, not as long as you’re happy.”

* * *

 

The young man – boy, really – brayed in pain against the gag pulled over his mouth. Tears flowed freely down his face, mixing with rivulets of blood.

A shiver of excitement coursed through Valen’s spine. He reached a hand out to stroke the boy’s hair, which was wet with sweat and blood and clung to his face.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” He asked cheerfully, giving a playful tug on one of the chains that held his wrists taut against his back. The boy was as naked as the day he was born, and forced on his knees in an upright fetal-like position. Valen found him as tantalizing as an oven-roasted pig, but he had had his fill not too long ago. Though the way the boy trembled and whimpered before him was quickly giving him the appetite for another round.

“Try to suck it up a little, darling. You’re gonna make me break, and I need to resist you a little while longer…” He picked up a metal brand from the fireplace and inspected its red-hot glow.  The Princess had visited him that morning in a tizzy, exclaiming that she wanted to move up the wedding date to the Winter Solstice - a month from now. He still had a lot of work to do.

The boy, upon seeing the brand, began to buck and struggle against his binds, his eyes wide in panic.

Valen tittered. “As much as I appreciate your enthusiasm, I’m going to need you to stay still. If you mess up the brand, we’ll have to do it again elsewhere, so it’s in your best interest to take it nicely.”

He pressed the brand into the boy’s back. The smell of burning flesh filled the chamber, and the boy screamed into his gag until he grew hoarse. It was all too much. A familiar pressure began to grow in his loins.

He unbuttoned his trousers, waiting impatiently for the brand to properly set. Testing the charm – which differed from the one he had ordered sealed on the backs of the Royal Guard – could wait, even if he now only had one month to finish his preparations. _Desire_ couldn’t.

What with his… _needs_ , it wasn’t often that he could indulge in sexual satisfaction, so he took each opportunity as his last. He thought of the girl…Lola. Her chubby little face, her large, round eyes…she had a rare innocence about her that he couldn’t wait to shatter. And he _would_ – he would just have to be a little more patient. He’d lived for over 180 years by now…what was one more month?

Unfortunate that her mother would be no fun at all. 100 years of battle against the Calamity had rendered her spirit nearly unbreakable. She’d bear any suffering dutifully and resiliently. He wouldn’t be able to work with that at all.

The father, though…the famed Hero of Hyrule…

Perhaps there had existed a time when he, too, had been galvanized by the expectations of the kingdom.

But the man who he had seen had none of the Princess’ resilience, or gravitas. He still carried a childlike glint in his eye. He still lived for each day, each taste of fruit cake, each thrilling adventure. He did not concern himself with what came after.

To be able to smash that spirit into its most rudimentary pieces, to reform it into a mewling, whimpering, moaning mess beneath him would be…

Divine.

For now, though, he’d have to satisfy himself with the poor prisoner boy before him.

* * *

 

“Ready?” Zelda asked Lola as she stood before the carriage. She wore a form-fitting pair of riding trousers and a blue tunic with gold trimmings that looked both comfortable and luxurious.

She was absolutely radiant, and Lola felt enchanted in her presence.

“Ready,” Lola confirmed, returning her mother’s sunny smile.

Zelda gave her a nod of affirmation, then looked beyond Lola uncertainly. “We just need to wait for Sir Bohr to…” The color drained from the Princess’ face before returning with a flush of pink. “What are you doing here? I thought Sir Bohr was to be attending us today!”

Lola followed her mother’s gaze to see her father, dressed in the dark jewel tones of the Hylian armor and a Hylian cloak, saunter up to meet them.

“It is his lover’s birthday tomorrow, so I gave him leave,” he answered evenly. “Are you disappointed, Your Majesty?”

There was a sarcastic edge to his voice despite the formality of his words which were not lost on Zelda. A younger version of her would have answered his insolence with a scathing remark, or perhaps even a slap, but she was beyond such trivialities. She supposed.

Instead, she placed a guiding hand on Lola’s back. “No, I’m simply surprised is all. You certainly know how I feel about surprises,” she said with a pointed look before enclosing herself and Lola in the carriage.  “You may take your place atop the vehicle with the conductor. Our safety is in your capable hands.”

She relished the look of mild annoyance he shot her before leaping like a cat onto his seat on the roof. If he insisted on playing games, she’d ensure they’d be ones of her choosing.

 

By the time they arrived in Hateno it was well past nightfall. Lola had long since fallen asleep.  Her shaggy head lolled loosely against the cushioned doorframe, and it took a surprising amount of reticence for Zelda to avoid drawing the girl into her lap. She kept her eyes trained on the child’s features – tracing the rounded curve of her cheeks, the fluttering of her eyelashes, the rosebud pout of her lips – and was especially conscious _not_ to look out the window at the darkened, empty house that haunted her periphery.

“We’ve arrived, Your Majesty,” she heard the conductor say shortly after feeling the vehicle come to a halt.

She stretched her legs, and moved to shake the girl awake.

“Don’t.”

Zelda let out a startled gasp. Link stood at the open door of the carriage, moonlight tracing a silvery outline of his figure. “Don’t wake her,” he repeated softly. “It’ll be difficult for her go back to sleep.” He held out his hand to help her out of the carriage.

She willfully refused his hand, opting to clumsily wrestle herself from the vehicle instead. “You’ll take care of her, then?” she asked, concentrating brushing herself off to avoid his eyes.

He reached into the carriage and came out with Lola in his arms, still fast asleep, her head resting comfortably against his chest. Zelda’s heart lurched at the sight.  He inclined his head at her, signaling that he would follow her lead. Reluctantly she tore her eyes away from the sleeping girl bundled comfortably against him and began the short trek uphill to Purah’s lab.

 

Luckily, the lighting inside the Hateno lab was present but dim, and Lola didn’t stir when Link carried her inside.

“Well hey, Princess! About time you— _Linky? Is that you?!”_

A young Sheikah woman – she appeared no older than 25 or so –stared at him in wide-eyed surprise behind large spectacles.

After recovering from a moment of stunned silence, Link offered her a boyish grin. “The one and only,” he affirmed.

Purah dropped the pile of sloppily arranged papers on the already overloaded table before her and bound up to him. “You really haven’t changed much,” she mused, adjusting her glasses to focus in on his face, then shifted her gaze to the child in his arms.

She was much closer to his height now, which Link found mildly off-putting. The last time he had seen her, she’d had to be propped up on a stool in order to look him directly in the eye.

Link shifted Lola’s weight in his arms.

“Oh snap, I’m sorry! Why don’t you put her down upstairs? I prepared the guest room for the Princess and the girl, but if I had known you were coming too…”

He shook his head. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ve got arrangements,” he assured her with a smile, before carrying Lola up the winding staircase to the guest bedroom.

“Well, _that’s_ an unexpected visit!” Purah chirruped after he disappeared, placing her hands on her hips. “Almost as out of nowhere as when he first came bursting in here after his resurr—“

“Yes, well, he _is_ full of surprises,” Zelda cut in. She pinched the bridge of her nose and began to massage her sinuses, a weary sigh escaping her throat.

Purah rubbed a small hand on her back, and Zelda leaned in to her shoulder, eager for the rare chance to glean comfort from another. “You doin’ okay, Zel?” she asked gently, wrapping an arm around the other woman’s shoulders.

Zelda shrugged, and let out another sigh. “I don’t know…probably not,” she admitted with a bitter laugh.

“Wanna talk about it?” Purah offered with uncharacteristic tenderness. “I might not be as wise or _eloquent_ as my little sis, but I’ve seen a lot in my 140 years.” Zelda looked up at her with a grateful smile.

“Thank you… though I’m not sure I could find the words or sort out any of the mess I’m feeling right now.” She straightened herself out with a stretch, renewed by Purah’s show of affection.

Purah nodded in understanding. “Well, you know I’m here for you whenever you need me,” she said warmly. Her eyes wandered to the staircase and lit up. “Ah, so I take it Operation Sleepyhead went well?”

Link leapt down the remaining few steps on silent feet. “Too well. She barely moved…I had to check that she was still breathing.”

His gaze fell on Zelda, so palpable to her that she stiffened. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again.

Sensing the awkward tension, Purah chimed in. “If you two don’t mind, I’ll be off to bed soon. I plan on being up bright and early to start work, sooo…”

Zelda’s hand shot to her chest. “Oh! Of—of course. Forgive me for keeping you up at this late hour.”

Purah waved her off dismissively. “Awww, don’t worry about it Princess.” Her large dark eyes darted from Link back to the Princess, twinkling. “Stay up as late as you two like, just be sure to keep things _quiet_.”

A startled sound escaped Zelda’s throat at about the same time Link was seized in a coughing fit. Purah practically pranced her way back to her sleeping quarters, the ghost of a smile on her lips. “Toodles!”

Link recovered himself shortly after Purah disappeared into her room. He passed a hand through his blond mane before returning it back to his hip. “Ah…” he cleared his throat, then withered at Zelda’s sudden scathing attention. “I’m, ah…I’ll let you retire to bed. I won’t be far in case you need anything.” He turned awkwardly away from her to the door, his body wound up as if he would leap through it.

Zelda scoffed in bitter disbelief. Link froze mid-step, his spine suddenly rigid.

“You’re bloody unbelievable, you know that?”

Face flashing both hot and cold at the same time, he forced himself to meet her withering stare, blinking blankly. “Ah…what?”

She tossed her head from side to side in a general expression of angry incredulity, her golden locks flying wildly about her like a lion’s mane. “You just—what do you want from me?” she demanded.

Link swallowed. “I—I don’t—“

“ _Yes you fucking do!”_ She raged, momentarily stunning herself by her use of language and the volume at which it escaped. She took a few deep breaths in an effort to compose herself. “When you’re not following me around with this—this ff—this bloody look like you’re a kicked puppy or something, you’re popping in at random times just to make my life a bit more miserable.”

She took a break to catch her breath, her hands balled into tight fists at her side, her chest heaving as if from exertion. The poison that had been slowly killing her for the past decade –the poison that _he_ had inflicted upon her—came tumbling down her tongue in hot coils to be spat back at him. “And here was the one thing I wanted to share – the one memory I wanted to create with her—“ her voice began to warble, but she quickly tightened her control “—but you couldn’t let that happen, could you? You _had_ to come and impose your presence here too, didn’t you? You _stole_ Lolita—you robbed me of her childhood, and you’re going to make damn well sure you steal every moment now too, aren’t you?” She laughed humorlessly. “That is, when you’re not fucking your second-in-command into incoherence.”

Link’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, and a deep pink flush colored his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “Y-you saw…” he stammered, his voice reedy with shock. His gaze drifted to her feet.

Zelda bared her teeth in a grimace disguised as a smile. “And you want to know something, Link?” She asked, her voice honey laced with cyanide.

He forced himself to meet her eyes.

“I don’t forgive you. I’ll _never_ forgive you. You stole something from me I’ll never be able to get back.” She raised her glassy eyes to the ceiling, blinking back burgeoning tears. She wouldn’t cry. She’d shed enough tears on his account – tears she hadn’t even spared her mother. “I _curse_ you, Link. You were a person I loved, once…kind, and selfless, and brave. The man I loved wouldn’t have stolen off into the night with my child to build a whole other life. He would have done what he needed to protect her, yes, but he would have found a way to do it with _me,_ too!” Her face morphed into a mask of smoldering contempt. “But that man died in my arms over a century ago. You—the selfish, capricious, _bestial_ creature that took his place—you’re nothing but a changeling.”

Link remained still before her, frozen except for the subtle trembling of his body. He looked stricken, pain etched in clear lines between his brows. For once, there was no curation of the emotions he chose to show. He had transformed from a black box of mystery into a glass one with all of its contents clearly on display. Pain, guilt, shame, anger, confusion, regret—Zelda could see it all, and a kind of numb satisfaction overfell her. She could make him understand her pain, after all.

“I…” his voice was low and coarse, brimming with barely contained emotion. He bowed his head as if in mourning, allowing his bangs to cover his downcast eyes. “I will arrange for a replacement guard first thing in the morning. Until then, I will assure your safety with as little disturbance to you as possible.” He straightened himself into a formal pose of attention. Most of the maelstrom of emotion that had possessed his expression before had dissolved into a heavy veil of sorrow. “I bid you goodnight, Your Majesty.”

Once again he fled into the night, leaving her anesthetized from the purge of emotion except for a faint, pinpoint pang in her chest.

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure where he was going, and the niggling sense of responsibility towards his wards reminded him that he couldn’t stray far, but he needed…he needed…

What?

What did he need?

Forgiveness? Mercy? Redemption? Hell, a breath of fresh air? Well, he was getting a lungful of icy, fresh air right now, and it wasn’t doing much to help things.

He soon found himself in front of a house he knew well.

There were many memories to be found in this house—memories that he had made all by himself; memories that belonged to _him,_ not to the dead young soldier whose face he wore. The house was a corpse now – cold and dark and soulless – but it had not been lain to rest and now its phantoms beckoned him inside.

Who was he to refuse them?

Surprisingly (or not. Was anything surprising anymore?) the door was unlocked, and yawned open in an ominous invitation.

In he stepped to a world of ghosts.

The foyer stretched before him, draped in shadows no light would penetrate. The bubbling giggle of a young woman pierced through the silence, and Link could see her smile, radiant as sunshine reflecting off of a clear summer lake. Her sea-green eyes twinkled with child-like glee. He felt her touch – at first ghosting over his face timidly, then running themselves over his skin with curiosity, and finally grasping at him and clinging to him with desperation, with desire, with ecstasy.

He felt the giddy flush of her cheeks as she looked up at him with excitement and contentedness and just a little fear, her hand resting on her growing belly.

He heard her agonized screams as she struggled to bring their child into the world, and her subsequent tears of joy as she held the wailing babe to her breast.

The countless scars on his body began to ache. He ran a gloveless hand across the rough plane of his upper right arm, feeling where the skin suddenly turned glassy and smooth—a souvenir of having his skin scorched off in a botched attempt to deflect a Guardian’s beam. He raked his fingers against the marred skin, relishing in the bite of his fingernails as blood welled up anew and snaked down his arm in sinewy rivulets.

Foolish. He had been foolish and…and

Bad.

The boy before him – _he_ had been good. He had been selfless and diligent in his duty to the goddess and the crown. The painful scars (how they _burned)_ that tracked his body were proof of that boy’s sacrifice. He had wanted to cover them in scars of his own –the Silent Princess tattoo that spanned the reconstructed skin of his hip had been the first step towards that goal, but now that burned too and he had no choice but to endure the pain that radiated from them.

Or replace that pain with one of his choosing.

Normally, he would have gone off in search of some aggressive creature of darkness – a Lynel, perhaps, or one of the few corrupted Guardians that remained –but the phantoms of the house held him back.

_Stay and repent,_ they hissed, as their shadows encircled him like wraiths.

“How?” he whimpered. “ _Please_ , anything…just…just tell me how.”

But the specters offered no guidance. They only repeated their demands, their revenant voices growing increasingly clamorous.

_Repent. **Repent**. _ **_Repent_ ** _._ **_Repent_ ** _._

Link pressed himself against a wall whose window faced the night sky, hoping to take shelter in the puddle of moonlight that poured through it. It was traitorous, however, and only served to illuminate him as a target to the demons that besieged him.

**_Repent! REPENT! REPENT!_ **

He clawed at his scars and raked desperately at his face. “ _How?!”_ he wailed, sobbing openly. “How? How? _How? Howww?”_

But this did nothing to slow their advance, nothing to stop their persistent, angry, deafening demands, and soon he was surrounded, suffocating on their shadows and burning in their anger.

And then, all went black.

* * *

 

For the second time that week, Lola awoke to find herself in an unfamiliar place. Instead of a luxurious, fluffy mattress however, she was on a fairly thin bedroll placed on a hardwood floor. The bedroll was meant for two, and whoever she had shared it with had long since left it, judging by the slight, cold indention in the pillow next to hers.

She got up and cracked her back, which was stiff from sleeping on the hard ground.

The room was small and narrow, the walls covered in all sorts of fascinating drawings and diagrams and notes.  A journal lay open on a small desk. Lola took a peek, ignoring the subtle pang of guilt that admonished her for snooping.

_Date: ???_

_Work has finally begun on my anti-aging rune. If all goes to plan, I believe it will effectively reverse the aging process. This technology will enable us to make retired warriors young again, thereby strengthening the Hyrulean army. When Calamity Ganon inevitably returns, we'll be ready. Our offense will be solid, and our defense impenetrable. The need for this tech pains me, but I truly hope to use it to attain everlasting peace for all._

Lola’s heart gave a small leap. She was in a real Sheikah lab! About to meet a real Sheikah scientist! And these were her research notes!

Before she could turn the page however, a voice startled her away.

“Oh you’re finally—hey! What do you think you’re doing reading my diary?!”

Purah stood at the doorway, her hands placed firmly on her hips to chide her.

Lola yelped and slammed the book shut in panic. “I’m sorry! I didn’t know, I—“

The Sheikah woman erupted in girlish laughter. “Ah, don’t worry about it kiddo! I did kinda place it there in plain sight, didn’t I?” She smiled disarmingly, and Lola felt her tension dissolve instantly. “You’re welcome to finish it later. For now, though” –she jutted an index finger in the air—“we have lots of fun stuff to do!”

Lola rushed through her morning toiletries, eager to see what the day had planned for her. She practically flew down the stairs, her feet barely touching ground, to see her mother – fresh-faced and dressed in a casual, loose-fitting blouse and trousers. They were the sort of clothes a mechanic or researcher would wear—someone who spent more time with books and objects than people. And yet somehow they made her look younger, and her beauty seem more effortless.

“Good-morning!” Lola said, breathless with excitement and winded from her rush downstairs.

“Good morning!” Zelda replied with a giggle. She held out a smooth arm to her, bare of any jewelry. The Sheikah woman from earlier stood smiling near a strange sort of pedestal, and a large, bookish Sheikah man rifled through several tomes on one of the wall-to-wall bookshelves that lined the den. “Lolita, I take it you briefly met Dr. Purah.” The Sheikah woman gave her a small wink.

A pink blush flooded her face. “Um, yes. Pleased to meet you, Professor.”

“So I was thinking!  Purah could give you a little lecture and demonstration of some Ancient Sheikah technology, and after that we could take a look at a few of the projects she’s working on—perhaps even lend her a hand!” In truth, the visit was not merely for fun, but to hopefully work on some solutions to how she could protect her kingdom from the troubling attacks.

Lola nodded eagerly, her heart beating an excited little drum beat against her growing chest. “Sounds awesome!” She paused as if something had just occurred to her and looked about the room. “Where’s dad?” she asked.

“Oh, ah—“ Zelda glanced nervously at Purah before answering. “He will actually be returning to the castle, as he’s needed there more than he is here. “

Lola’s eyes flashed in disappointment, and Zelda felt the small prickle of hurt. Had she been too presumptuous in assuming Lola would be content with just her?

The disappointment didn’t seem to dampen the girl’s enthusiasm, however, and soon she was whisked away in Purah’s rapid-fire explanations and demonstrations.

 

The day passed by surprisingly fast for Lola. She learned about all sorts of things –about Guidance Stones, about the Sheikah Slate (she even got to test one of its runes—magnesis—but had to stop after she accidentally caused an entire bookshelf to come tumbling down), and about the Divine Beasts.

The most surprising of these discoveries, however, was how they related to her parents.

She had learned in her history classes about the Calamity and the subsequent Age of Burning fields. Nearly 70 percent of the population had lost their lives, most notably the King of Hyrule himself, along with the five Champions who had been tasked with Hyrule’s protection.

Lola knew that her mother’s powers had enabled her to hold the Calamity Ganon at bay for over a century (she really was amazing), until a young man (her father!) successfully stormed the besieged castle to aid the Princess in defeating the entity for good.

What she _hadn’t_ known was that her parents’ history with each other went much further back than the defeat of the Calamity. He had been one of the five ill-fated Champions, and existed today solely thanks to Purah’s discovery of the Slumber of Restoration.

The image she had crafted of her father no longer was compatible with this new information, and it troubled her greatly. She tried to imagine him as a youth, dressed in the stiff, straight lines of the Royal Guard outfit, his white-gloved hands folded neatly behind his back as he quietly followed the young Princess through a brightly-lit ballroom.

It…didn’t fit.

A sudden wave of malaise swept over her, and a dull ache in her stomach caused her to double over. Despite the Sheikah scientists’ hospitality, the bed was much too uncomfortable to facilitate a goodnight’s rest, and Symin’s cooking skills were…passable, at best.

“Lolita! Are you alright? You look pale!” her mother’s brow creased in worry.

Lola swallowed thickly, swaying on her feet. “I think I ate something that made me sick,” she said feebly.

Zelda threw an apologetic glance at Symin. “You’re welcome to lie down,” She offered.

“I’ll be okay, I just um….” She trailed off, suddenly self-conscious and eager to be alone.

Her mother’s look of concern was slowly replaced with confusion. “Well…alright. Whatever you need to do, sweetie.” With that she turned back to her work, resuming her murmuring conversation with Symin.

As Lola made her way to the bathroom, a strange sort of hollowness resounded within her. Her mother was very kind and very obviously loved her, but…

But she had hoped that she’d be taken into her arms, coddled and cuddled with saccharine words of sympathy, tucked in with a mug of hot milk and a loving smile…

She thought of her father and felt her chest tighten with his absence. She had been so excited to spend time with her mother—to drink up all of her attention and presence that she hadn’t realized she’d been starving for the familiar support and comfort her father provided. She’d taken to shying away from his demonstrations of affection in the past year or so. She didn’t realize she’d actually come to crave it.

The pain in her stomach grew worse, and with relief she finally reached the bathroom. There had been one built in to the lab, but she was too embarrassed to use it, and had opted for the outdoor latrine at the bottom of the hill instead.

Scarlet splotches of blood stained her underwear, and she nearly fainted at the sight. In panic, she grabbed a fistful of paper from beside the latrine to attempt to slow the bleeding.

She stumbled out of the outhouse, looking around wildly for a plan. Perhaps there would be a doctor further in the village? (Hopefully a lady doctor)

Waddling down the winding road into the village, her eyes fell upon a particularly cozy-looking house whose smoking chimney and bright windows shined like a beacon to her. The mouthwatering smell of frying onions beckoned her closer, until she was near enough to see through the window--!

She knocked at the door.

Her father stood at the doorway, his face haggard, his hair in wild disarray, his bruised eyes wide in surprise. “Lulu, how did you—“

“I got my period.”

* * *

 

Darkness had begun to fall when Zelda decided to tear herself from her research.  She hadn’t made much progress, but she had discovered a charm that could make individuals invisible to the Reanimated’s eyes. The problem was that there was no conceivable way it could be tested, so she was stuck.

In reality it was mostly her growling stomach that made the choice for her to stop. She had barely eaten any of the dry, overcooked beef and thick, slop-like “gravy” that Symin had served them, and based on Lolita’s reaction to the food—

Lolita!

Poor thing, she should have checked up on her! She’d probably be alright, but…perhaps she should have made certain anyway. That’s what mothers did, right? It was so very difficult to tell, as the few memories she still had of her own mother were hopelessly faded down to only the essential elements – the timbre of her voice, the smell of her perfume—and as for her father…

No need to go there.

She got up from her chair and rolled her neck over her shoulders as she made her way upstairs.

“Lolita, sweetheart, how are you—Lolita?”

A cold sort of dread washed over her when she realized that the bedroll was empty—and had been for at least a few hours now.

She rushed back down stairs, yelling for Purah. “Did you see Lolita anywhere?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep the panic out of her voice.

Purah placed a finger to her lips in thought. “Well, last I saw her she looked like she was heading to the latrine outside—just at the bottom of the hill down there.”

She had barely finished her sentence when Zelda scurried out the door.

By the time she reached the outhouse her breath burned in her lungs and her muscles throbbed, unaccustomed to being exerted. It was empty as well, which was both a relief and further cause for concern.

“Lolita!” She called, her voice strung tight to the point of breaking. She ambled down the road on sore muscles, then stopped short.

The house.

It had been reanimated.

Its windows glowed softly with a warm light, and the familiar aromas of wood-fire and baked goods and flowers ignited her hunger—and not just for food.

As if transported she found herself on the doorstep, her hand in a trembling fist. She knocked weakly.

The door creaked open and she was suddenly awash in warmth and light and the tantalizing scent of a home cooked meal.

A man she once knew stood before her, his wild golden hair tumbling down his chest and back. Piercing blue eyes—the same eyes of a boy she had loved—regarded her sharply in fear. “I don’t know how she ended up here,” he said, the words crashing over one another in a desperate effort to escape. “I wanted to let you know, but—“

Perhaps there was something written on her face that made him stop, but his icy, fearful blue eyes softened into a doe-eyed cerulean gaze. “There’s room for one more for dinner if you’d like to join us,” he said softly, stepping aside to afford her an unobstructed path into the house.

Her heart pounded like hoof beats, so loud in her ears that she could barely hear herself reply.

On borrowed feet she stepped onto the threshold; into the past laid before her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, another chapter! I'm sorry for the wait! Phew, this story is...going places. I'm actually unsure if I should add trigger warnings or not, because it's going to go a lot deeper into things in future chapters. I'm trying to keep it at an "M" warning, and don't think I've crossed the "E" threshold (yet lol, we'll see how long I can hold to that).


	12. Chapter 12

 

The gentle warmth of hearth-fire caressed Zelda’s face as she stepped into the living room. On a dinner table large enough to fit six was a roasted bird of modest size, surrounded by a bed of sautéed onions and potatoes and steamed greens.

Lola, already seated, looked up at her mother with a mix of surprise and guilt. “I didn’t mean to run away,” she said quickly. “I didn’t feel very good so I kinda wandered around and—“

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Zelda assured her with a tender smile. “No need to apologize.”

Lola fell quiet but still looked wary, as if she didn’t quite believe her mother wasn’t upset.

The house was just as Zelda had remembered it, and was strangely spotless. Surely after ten years of abandonment there would at least be some dust?

“I…didn’t sleep much last night,” Link said sheepishly, reading her thoughts through the way her gaze swept her surroundings.  At her astonished look, he rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously before gesturing for her to a seat.

They ate in silence, each bite taking Zelda further back in time until she was certain she was in a reality that didn’t exist outside of her dreams. Though the meals she had at the Castle were excellent, there was something…deeper, more affecting, in Link’s cooking. As if the flavors were made up of more than just the ingredients they were comprised of.

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small but contented smile on Lola’s face, her eyes volleying from parent to parent as if they’d disappear should she lose sight of them for too long.

“Do you have room for dessert?” Link asked, his voice muted and husky.

Her stomach was full to bursting, but the memory of desserts made by his hand incited her to accept, to which he offered her a flickering smile.

He got up to replace the large serving dish –which now had only the decimated carcass of the roasted bird—with a small cake topped with strawberries and covered in whipped buttercream. “It’s no longer the season for any of the other fruits I’d normally use, but the strawberries seemed good,” he explained with a tinge of regret.

Zelda smiled and shook her head, dismissing the apology. “It looks amazing,” she breathed.

And it was. Any possibility of her appetite being satiated disappeared with the first bite of cake, which melted in her mouth in creamy, sweet, slightly tart waves. She finished her piece before even Lola, and hesitantly refused the second piece she was offered.

She didn’t know how long she sat in her chair, enjoying the aftertaste of the meal that still tickled her taste-buds and the warm glow of the gaslights above her, but she realized that it was the first moment in a long time where she was truly content; where she wasn’t plagued by thoughts or worries or the poison that had seeped through her veins.

Link got up to begin clearing the table and Lola jolted up, already making her way to the back.

“This isn’t the castle, Lola—there are no servants here,” he snapped.

The girl froze mid-step, then turned towards him slowly, a look of protest on her face. “But I don’t _feel well_ ,” She whined, dragging her feet back to help him. “I’m not supposed to do too much effort!” She looked to Zelda in a silent plea to join her cause.

He remained unmoved. “Yeah? Well I’ll be sure to have them write it on your gravestone should it kill you,” he said sardonically. “And don’t try to rope in your mother to get you out of this. You can leave those near the wash bin.”

Lola placed her stack of dishes near the sink, her mouth puckered in sour resignation. Link waved her off in the same way one would wave off a stubborn cat. “I’ll take care of the rest. Go and take a bath—there should be enough hot water by now. It’ll make you feel better.”

She nodded and sulked off to the back, stealing a sidelong glance at her mother as she did so.

Link punctuated her absence with a sigh. “I’ll do this later,” he mumbled half to himself, placing the dishes in a wash bin filled with sudsy water. He dried his hands on a rag and rolled his head over his shoulders, stretching the muscles of his neck. “Tea?” he asked Zelda without looking at her, pulling out two mugs even as he posed the question.

“Oh…yes, that would be wonderful, thank you.”

“Warm Safflina?” he asked—less a question, and more a confirmation of information he already had.

A mild burst of surprise radiated from Zelda’s chest. He had remembered – though of course he would remember. And yet…part of her had expected that he would have purged himself of any memory or thought towards her. She didn’t know how to feel about the fact that he very obviously hadn’t. “That…is perfect, thank you.”

He set down her mug in front of her, along with a teapot full of steaming, fragrant Warm Safflina tea before taking his seat.

Zelda watched him as he served her, her eyes going from the unnaturally smooth, raw skin of one of his corded forearms—now pocked with small gashes—, up to his chest, which strained against the thin fabric of his undershirt, then to the gentle curve of his lips (unwelcome memories of what that mouth used to do to her sent tendrils of warmth through her core, but she quickly shoved them aside), and then finally to his large, thickly lashed blue eyes.

Feeling her eyes upon him he looked up at her, and for a moment both were frozen.

Surprisingly, it was Link who broke the silence. “I know it’s almost absurd to say,” he began slowly, “But…I’m sorry. For—for everything.”

Zelda felt her throat constrict. She swallowed thickly. “Do you—do you know what ‘everything’ is?”

Link’s eyes softened with the weight of her sorrow. “No. There’s no way I could.”

She nodded in confirmation, then sucked in a breath. “I-understand, you know.  That you were scared, that you felt alone, that…that for whatever reason, you felt it was the best thing for her.”

He sat stiffly in his chair, his mouth a grim line, but other than the obvious rigidity in his countenance, he appeared carefully neutral.

She continued. “But I’m not quite sure you ever realized what position I was in.” –Link opened his mouth to protest, but Zelda raised her voice over his, holding up a hand to steady him—“ _Lolita’s safety was always_ my absolute primary concern, and I would have never dreamed to allow for her to be in danger. _Nor_ would I have accepted a life for her where she was treated like a second class citizen.”

Link regarded her with eyes slightly narrowed in distrust, and she returned it with a meaningful stare of her own. 

“I _always_ made that clear to you, Link. I was always fighting for it, and I wouldn’t have accepted any compromise on that front. But you wanted things to just…happen” –She snapped her fingers— “Like that. That’s not how the real world works, Link. That’s not how life at my level works, anyway. I can’t just barrel my way through any situation the way I please and not bother to take care where the pieces land. Not the way you do. My actions have _consequences_ , Link. They affect much more than myself, and I _care_ about those consequences—especially when they imply, say, the future of my kingdom.”

She looked down into her teacup. Steam danced across the liquid’s surface like ghostly ballerinas. “It felt like a part of me had been ripped away,” Her voice was very small. “Like you had reached directly into my womb and wrenched her out.”

Link traced a finger around the rim of his mug, pretending to concentrate on the motion. She could tell he was listening attentively, however, by the tension in his shoulders, and the way he was leaned in.

“Imagine, Link. Imagine waking up one day like any other, and finding that the love of your life and your baby girl had vanished into thin air.  I looked desperately for you two. I didn’t want to believe—even with the evidence you yourself left me—that you had done such a thing. I thought that something had happened to you, and that they were framing you to cover it up. I couldn’t accept“–She choked back a sob—“that the one person I trusted and loved the most had abandoned me, and taken with him my most precious—“ Zelda cut herself off, not wanting to further taunt the tears that had surfaced. She hated crying—particularly in front of him.

He exhaled slowly.  “I’m sorry,” he said, the words barely more than a breath.

She hummed a quivering acceptance and attempted a fluttering smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.  

Lola emerged from the washroom, dressed in baggy pajamas and with her hair still dripping wet. Link shifted his attention to her. “Go ahead and take the bed upstairs. I’ll set up a bedroll down here.”

“’Kay,” she said, her questioning eyes on Zelda. “Are you gonna sleep here with me?”

Zelda shook her head, not bothering to force a smile. “No, my love. I’ll be returning back to Purah’s lab for the night. Take your time tomorrow morning – we’re doing independent research all day tomorrow, so you can come in and out as you like.”

A look of dismay settled on her soft features. “’Kay. Well…goodnight. Tonight was cool.”

Her words incited a pang in Zelda’s chest, and she noticed Link jolt minutely in surprise.

“Goodnight, Lolita.”

* * *

 

The next day Link’s replacement arrived: a young but experienced woman of the Royal Guard. Link set out for the castle as soon as she was properly situated, refusing the carriage in favor of making the trek on horseback.

He needed the fresh air and solitude. He was numb after his short stay in Hateno, and had no energy left for even self-reflection, let alone physical interaction.  

The ice-kissed wind lashed at his face and attempted to pry his hooded cloak away as his horse – outfitted with the Ancient Bridle and Saddle – tore through the mountainous trail of Necluda with supernatural speed.

Much of the land here remained untouched as the decimated Hylian population had focused on rebuilding their society in the relatively flat, fertile plains of Central Hyrule that surrounded the Castle.  It was amazing what fifteen years of unrestrained growth could do to a civilization, and it was wonderful seeing the scarred land and haphazard encampments flourish into villages and towns and marketplaces.

However…

Part of him mourned the lush stretches of land nature had reclaimed. He missed the ability to ride for miles and miles seeing neither soul nor evidence of human intervention.

Too soon the rocky, jagged trails and patches of forest became paved cobblestone roads, and the sounds of strange birds and wind and the dull thud of hoofbeats on grass became the low murmur of busy crowds and the sharp clop-clop-clop of hooves on paved ground.

After leaving his horse at the castle stables, Link briefly considered stopping by a tavern, but was immediately turned off the idea when he saw the crowd and remembered he’d have to actually talk to order anything.

So he climbed instead.

He chose a wall facing away from the bustle of Castle Town and deftly scaled it, leaping from shadow to shadow until he reached a buttress jutting out from the inner Sanctum of the castle’s main tower.

The same one where Zelda had trapped herself with the Calamity Ganon for a whole century.

He sat with his back to it, cradling one knee while allowing his other leg to dangle off the edge, above a 100 foot drop to the nearest surface.

“Not contemplating jumping, are you?”

Link jolted in alarm and turned to face Valen, who was carefully lowering himself into taking a seat next to him. How had he not heard him coming?

“…How did you get up here?” Link asked incredulously.

Valen’s hazel eyes twinkled. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Link’s mouth twisted to the side in a frown as his eyes swept over the man next to him, then returned to the horizon.

Valen laughed at the unimpressed once-over he’d been given. “I’m half Sheikah,” he said by way of an explanation.  “I’m pretty good at getting places quietly.”

Link gave an unimpressed hum and kept his eyes ahead, his chin resting on his upraised knee.

“So the wedding’s coming up a lot sooner than originally anticipated,” Valen said conversationally, leaning back on his elbows. “I just learned about it the same day everyone else did. At this point we’ve only got a couple of weeks to finish the planning. Is it even possible to plan a wedding in a month? I was under the impression that those things took at least a _year_ …” He looked to Link, who continued to ignore his presence. “I wonder if something happened to make her want to have it as soon as possible…?”

As if struck, Link whirled to face Valen, his icy blue eyes seething with a wolfish glare. A tingle ran down Valen’s spine. Such cold rage, such a quiet promise of death lurked behind those eyes.

This was definitely a beast he’d die to conquer.

Despite the glacial stare that seemed to freeze the air around them Valen continued, willfully pretending to concentrate on his nails. “She still loves you, as I’m sure part of you knows. Going through with this wedding probably kills her, but it’s a way for her to get what she wants. You see, we have an agreement. She’s not _actually_ attracted to me, nor am I to her.  I have other tastes that she can’t quite fulfil”—he said this last part conspiratorially, as if he were divulging a juicy secret—“But I have sway with the Counsel. And because she’d be doing what they ask by marrying a man of Royal blood, they’d have less ground to deny a request such as…say, me adopting Lolita and putting her forth as our heir to the Crown.”

Valen snuck a sidelong glance at Link, who had gone pale.

He continued. “Of course then, that begs the question of what happens to _you._ Obviously, the Counsel would be just as happy to invent some reason to let you hang –not that dear Zelda would want that of course, but that alone has little sway with them. Or perhaps they’d send you on some impossible mission to your death. Or even simply exile you from the Castle and give the order to kill you on sight should you attempt to return. Our Queen would be none-the-wiser –she’d just think that you had gone off and abandoned her again after not getting your way.”

Link was trembling now, every muscle in his body taut as if the mere act of sitting still was painful.

“ _But…_ ” Valen placed a hand on Link’s thigh, conscious of the risk he was taking. “I could fight for you. Zelda is too unsure of herself, and unaware of just how determined the Counsel is of getting rid of you once you’ve fulfilled your purpose. But I could use you. You’d have free access to our dear Queen in whichever way you choose…and you’d remain a presence in your daughter’s life, which certainly won’t be the case the way things are going now. All you’d have to do…” his hand crept up Link’s thigh, a serpentine smile on his face as he edged closer. “…is to let me use you. _Submit_ to me, “—his hazel eyes, now more yellow in the fading twilight, roved down to Link’s mouth, burning with an expression of hunger—“…In whichever way I choose.”

Whatever invisible string that held Link in place snapped, and in a second he was on his feet, his hand gripping Valen’s throat.

“If you _dare_ touch me like that again, or insinuate that I am to become your _whore—“_ he spat the word, his face contorted into a snarl, “—then I will rip your balls out with my own teeth and stuff them down your throat until you choke on them.”

Valen wrapped his hand around Link’s wrist, gasping for breath. “You…might want to let go,” he rasped.

Link did so, but he continued to shiver from head to toe, and the bridge of his nose remained creased and his teeth were still bared in a snarl.

Valen took some time to gather his breath, his citron glare fixed on Link. “We’ll see if you still have the same answer when the time comes.  I predict you’ll be reconsidering before long.”

With that he stepped backwards into the shadows, disappearing on a cold night wind.

* * *

 

“Quite early for the first snowfall, isn’t it?” Merynn, one of Zelda’s veteran chambermaids, said as she stared out the suite’s large bay windows to a snow-dusted garden. She braided a flower crown through Zelda’s hair, her thick fingers surprisingly nimble with experience.

“Though what better wedding décor can we ask for than snow? And you’ll look positively radiant with it as a backdrop! Like a wintery forest nymph!” Merynn accented the braided crown with a few silver painted branches, and as Zelda stared at her reflection, she had to agree.

Silver and gold dusted her face, making it shimmer in the wintry light. Aside from the glittery dust, her makeup was light and gave her face an innocent, girlish quality. Her wedding dress was long-sleeved and white and fell loosely about her body, cinched at the waist with a delicate silver and gold chain. The entire look was minimalistic and pure and suggested magic and mystery and snow glittering on bare branches.

Yes, she thought. She was the very image of a virginal forest nymph.

In reality, though, she really was more of an Ice Queen.

There was a polite knock at the door.

At Zelda’s approval, Merynn  welcomed the visitor inside. In the mirror Zelda saw a shock of rainbow feathers – colors that evoked warmth and joy and curiosity.

“Why, my lady – your beauty alone could serve as the muse for countless ballads,” Kass said, his voice as rich as the colors of his feathers. “Once again I am reminded of why my dear teacher was so enamored by your presence.” He sketched an ornate bow.

Despite herself, Zelda blushed. “You’re too kind, Kass. I thank you for once again coming all this way to offer your services.”

He shook his head. “The pleasure’s mine. What court poet would refuse the opportunity to perform at the Royal Wedding?”

His honey-colored eyes crinkled pleasantly, but there was an unspoken sentence between them that Zelda could hear as clearly as if he had said it out loud: _Even if this isn’t the Royal union any of us had hoped for._

“Did you bring your wife and daughters along to enjoy the festivities?” Zelda asked, turning back towards the mirror to address him through it as Merynn continued to preen her.

Kass smiled ruefully. “No, milady. The winter wind proved a little too intense for them to be able to make the trip unfortunately. However I will be sure that the stories I compose of the event will do it as much justice as if they had been here in person.”

Zelda returned his smile, though her eyes failed to reflect it. “Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

Kass sketched another bow. “I’ll leave you to finish with your toiletries, dear Zelda. In the meantime, I’ll go provide your eagerly awaiting guests with some musical entertainment.

After he left, Merynn placed a light hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “Ready?” She asked, her liquid brown eyes soft with countless unspoken words.

Zelda stared at the young woman in the mirror, who looked every bit the delicate, chaste, mystical Princess –soon to be Queen—that her people expected her to be. An emptiness gnawed at her stomach. She was making the right choice, she assured herself. This was the safest way to guarantee her daughter’s legitimacy to the throne, and perhaps…

…Perhaps, eventually, even secure Link’s place at her side. If he so chose, of course.

Honestly, she hadn’t seen much of him at all since she’d returned from Hateno. During his guard duty, he was as silent and expressionless as her shadow. Did…did the idea of her impending wedding hurt him to that extent? Was he upset? Or was he simply too awkward to broach the subject of their dinner in Hateno?

The idea of him once again becoming lost to her was—

Now wasn’t the time to think about that.

She raised her eyes to meet Merynn’s through the mirror, and gave her a slight, almost imperceptible nod.

* * *

The world seemed to go still as she emerged through the floor-to-ceiling doors to the ballroom, where her groom and most important guests awaited her.

Diverse yet familiar faces parted like an ocean to let her pass. Among them, Prince Sidon and a few of his armored guards from Zora’s Domain watched her with shining eyes. Yunobo, dressed in Daruk’s Champion’s sash, clasped his two massive fists together in an expression of childlike delight. Riju, her guard Bularia, and a few other towering members of the Gerudo court observed her impassively, their faces hard and unreadable. The Rito warriors – Teba and Harth, among a handful of others, stood proudly at attention, their sharp eyes following her every movement with disconcerting focus.

Mixed in with the crowd were several unfamiliar faces, too. Lean, hungry looking people –neither young nor old—stared at her through the corners of their eyes. Despite their extravagant gowns and suits of dark, jewel-like colors, they seemed…out of place. Like coyotes groomed for a lap dog show. Were these Valen’s people?

At the end of the infinitely long red carpet was her soon-to-be King-Consort, dressed in a sharply cut suit of dark red and charcoal gray. What an odd choice for a color scheme…

Before she could follow that thought, her gaze was drawn to—

Him.

He wore the modern version of the Royal Guard uniform, its gold-and-silver trimmed collar high and sharp against his jawline. Instead of the cap of old, a silver and gold circlet crowned his head, complementary to the chain she wore around her waist. His face was streaked with silver, red and blue paint – somehow both refined and appealingly barbaric. Surrounding him stood the rest of the Royal Guard, all painted in a similar fashion. She tried not to think about the fact that the woman she had seen him with, Aya, stood next to him, her dark eyes lined with a fierce swipe of black kohl.

The Royal Guards kneeled as soon as Zelda came into their field of view. Valen waited for her on an altar, his hazel eyes gleaming. He was very handsome – tall and straight-backed with strong, angular features – but something she couldn’t put a finger on seemed to sap at his beauty.  Perhaps it was the severity in his thin mouth, or the sharp planes of his face.

Why was she thinking this? She shook the thought away and took his outstretched hand to stand before him.

Rayu, dressed in the long, flowing robes of Sheikah clergy, led a young boy holding a blue velvet pillow, atop of which sat two crowns bearing the Hylian Crest.

Did he no longer need the cane? Zelda thought absurdly. And was it just her imagination, or was his face somehow fuller – the skin more supple?

Valen smiled at her as she took her place beside him, his hand still supporting her own. She did her best to return his smile. It suddenly occurred to her that while he smiled a lot, she didn’t find it pleasant. Link didn’t smile very often, but when he did it seemed to light up his entire face. His whole body would _radiate_ with it. And even when he wasn’t smiling, there was a certain boyish glow in his eyes that promised mischief and humor and frankness.

Rayu’s voice –once reedy and quavering—boomed throughout the windowed ballroom. “Cherished citizens of Hyrule, thank you for joining us for this most special day. For today, not only shall our Princess of Hyrule become a Queen, but she shall take in hand a King as well. Hand in hand, may they walk the path of the Goddess’ light and bring peace and prosperity to our kingdom as their forefathers did for years long passed.”

Somewhere in the room, the melodic warbling of Kass’ accordion began, and though he did not sing in accompaniment, she could hear the phantom lyrics on the notes.

_An ancient Hero, a Calamity appears, now resurrected after 100 years…_

She raised her eyes to meet Rayu’s, her hand cold in Valen’s gentle grip. Rayu gingerly picked up a crown.  “With this crown, by the power vested in me by the Goddess Hylia Herself…”

_Her appointed Knight gives his life…_

Zelda kneeled, her heart pumping so loudly in her ears she could barely make out Rayu’s words. “…I hereby appoint Zelda Harkinian Hyrule as Queen of our mortal realm.” The cold metal crown dug uncomfortably into her scalp. She rose to her feet.

_…Shields her figure, and pays the price…_

“Your Majesty, if you would please take your betrothed’s crown,” Rayu presented her the second crown.

Numbly she did so. She felt like a mere marionette in Queen’s clothing, each movement addled as if controlled by the strings of a puppet master.

“Repeat after me, Your Majesty. ‘With this Crown, I, Queen Zelda Harkinian Hyrule…”

“With this crown, I…Queen Zelda Harkinian…Hyrule…”

_The Princess’ love for her knight awakens her power…_

“Do take Sir Valen of Akkala…”

_The Hero, The Princess…_

“Do…do take S-Sir Vvv…of Akkah…”

_Hand in hand…_

“…To serve Hylia’s holy will as my husband and King”

_Must bring light back to this land._

The crown in her hand suddenly felt much too heavy. Valen stood very still, his adder’s smile frozen in place. “Is there something, my queen?” he asked softly.

Zelda’s gaze slid to where Link still kneeled. He met her gaze, his painted eyes unreadable.

“I apologize,” she said to Valen, her eyes still locked on to Link’s. “But I can’t go through with this.”

She turned back to face the crowd and placed Valen’s crown back on the pillow in Rayu’s trembling hands. Shocked murmurs rippled throughout the room. The old man’s eyes bulged out of his skull. “Your Majesty, what is the meaning of this…?”

Zelda ignored him to address the room. “Cherished members of the Kingdom of Hyrule,” she began in a loud, clear voice she didn’t recognize as her own. “I realize that many of you have come from far and wide to witness not only my ascension to Queendom, but to take part in a marriage ceremony.”

From her periphery, she was vaguely aware of how still Link had become, as well as the panicked glances shared between Valen and Rayu.

“I regret to inform you that this will no longer be a wedding, but the celebration to a new era of Hyrule.”

The crowd erupted into a confused rumbling, all decorum forgotten in favor of making sense of this new development.

“Please accept my most heartfelt apology,” she continued, emboldened by how little she felt affected by her guest’s reactions. She turned back to Valen, whose expression had not changed. “I especially apologize to you, Sir Valen. I have led you through a very emotionally confusing series of events, and I hope that you will be able to forgive me one day.”

The room once again grew silent in anticipation for Valen’s reaction.

For a few heart stopping moments, he said nothing. He simply regarded her with that flat, serpentine smile, his hazel eyes dancing wildly in the winter light.

Finally, he spoke. “It’s…actually me who should be apologizing to you, my Queen,” he said slowly. “This wasn’t supposed to be how things were to go, but…luckily, I’ve already planned for the possibility.”

Before Zelda could process his words, a piercing scream rang out from behind her.

Bursts of red darted through the writhing crowd, and Zelda realized in dull horror that the strange, feral looking guests she had noticed earlier had drawn weapons and were now slicing their way through the people around them.

Valen lunged for her, his hazel eyes burning an otherworldly yellow. She felt herself get jerked back, then the room spun around her.

Link gripped her by the shoulders, his breathing ragged with adrenaline. “Where’s Lola?” he growled.

Cold panic gripped her chest. “A chambermaid took her a few hours ago to get her ready for the ceremony.”

Fear more primal than any she had ever seen on him fell upon his face. “We need—“

A blade flashed like quicksilver, slicing through the air she had been mere seconds before Link once again spun her away. 

Aya ambled towards them, her sword poised to strike, her face drawn terror. “I—I can’t control—“ she choked out before charging them. 

Link gripped Zelda against his chest and stood his ground.  A field of red shimmering light surrounded them for a split second before exploding outwards in glass-like shards, sending Aya careening through one of the large windows.

_“Link! Your Majesty!”_

Sidon threw a skewered warrior from his trident over his shoulder before rushing to meet them. Teba, the Rito warrior, guarded his back, aiming his bow at any who dared to approach. “Lady Riju was able to secure a convoy to take you to safety,” Sidon panted, and Zelda noticed a jagged gash in his side was bleeding freely. “There are a lot of…things gathering at the exit, but it seems like those charms you gave us are keeping them safe.”

A small bit of relief soothed her. At least her research was able to yield them some protection…

“But you have to leave _now,”_ he said, his voice tight with urgency. “It seems like the Royal Guard” –he stole a glance at Link—“Well, most of them anyway, have been compromised, and the wards don’t seem to do much against them at all. Yunobo can take you.” Huddled in a corner and surrounded by the same light field Link had minutes ago cowered Yunobo.

Zelda shook her head. “No, I can’t. My daughter…I have to find--“

Link’s grip on her arm tightened. She looked at his face in alarm, which was drawn and pale. She followed his gaze with a sick sense of dread.

The room stilled. Valen strode towards them and the crowed peeled away. A procession of pallid-looking Royal Guards marched behind him.

He stopped about ten feet away, his face an eerie mask of dead-eyed calm. Link moved to lunge at him, but Valen stepped aside to reveal Bohr, his whole body taut with panic, holding a knife against a silently sobbing Lola’s neck.

Link stopped in his tracks, and a soft whine escaped his throat.

“Drop your weapon, Link.” Valen commanded softly.

Link gripped his sword until his knuckles were white. Valen clicked his tongue, and Lola squealed in pain as Bohr’s knife bit into her skin. Bohr’s tear-stained eyes pleaded with Link’s for forgiveness.

“Valen, _stop!”_ Zelda cried out, stepping in front of Link as his sword clattered to the ground. “What is it that you want?”

Valen’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, I already have what I want.”

Zelda’s brows furrowed in confusion. Behind her, she felt Link tremble with rage and panic and willed him to stay put. “…What do you mean?” she asked tentatively.

He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the room appreciatively. “Well, I’ve obviously successfully pulled off a coup, so I’ve got myself a kingdom. This wasn’t my original plan, by the way,” he said as an aside, fiddling absentmindedly with the blood-red stone hanging from his neck. “I was willing to play the long con, the _political_ game, but you’re so damn unpredictable I had to improvise. Good thing I had my dear Rayu to help on that. Couldn’t have pulled it off without him. He does our people proud.”

Behind Valen, Rayu shrank back from Zelda’s furtive glare.

Zelda narrowed her eyes at Valen. “Give us our daughter back,” she hissed through clenched teeth.

Valen gave her an impressed smirk. “Well, hey! That’s the most commanding I think I’ve ever seen you! So good job, but no. I won’t. We get along much too well, and I’ve already made so many _plans_ that involve her.”

Feeling him lurch violently, Zelda steadied a warning hand against Link’s chest. “I will surrender myself to you in exchange for you returning her to her father,” Zelda said steadily.

She heard the room collectively draw in a sharp breath.

Valen, however, appeared unmoved. “What would I want _you_ for?” he scoffed, his lip curling slightly in distaste.

Zelda felt her heart sink into her chest. Was there no way out of this? He had to have _something_ —

“Take me instead.”

The audience rippled with shocked murmurs. Both Zelda and Valen turned towards Link in surprise, who stood stock-straight, his mouth set in a determined line.

An incredulous smile crept to Valen’s face. “What was that?”

Link swallowed, a muscle working in his jaw. “I said,” he ground out, each word through gritted teeth, “take me instead.”

“In any way I choose?” Valen purred. Link’s eyes fluttered in agitation and his jaw tightened further. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Valen took a step forward. “I need to hear you say it,” he said sharply.

Link wet his lips. “In—in any way you choose.” His words were more breath than voice.

Valen’s face hardened. “Beg for it. At my feet.”

His blue eyes blazing with an arctic fury, Link crouched before Valen like an obedient dog. “ _Please,”_ he seethed, “Take me instead. In any way you choose. I—I beg you.”

“Well when you ask it like _that,_ what power do I have to refuse you?” He looked up at Zelda, whose fists were clenched at her sides. “Come get her.”

Zelda, with Sidon and Teba’s protective presence behind her, stepped cautiously up to Bohr. As if suddenly released from a binding, his whole body went slack, and Lola was free to leap into her arms.

At the same moment Lola was freed, another member of the Royal Guard – with the same robotic movements and terrified expression Bohr and Aya had had – bound Link’s wrists in front of him with an iron chain.

Lola attempted to tear herself away from her mother, her voice shrill in desperation. “ _No_ , don’t tie him!”

Zelda restrained her, and raised her chin defiantly to Valen. “At least let us say goodbye.”

This made Lola thrash harder against Zelda’s body. “No! _No_ _we can’t leave him!”_ She wailed.

Valen shrugged, ignoring Lola’s anguished sobs . “I don’t see a problem with that,” he said, as if Zelda had just requested blue wallpaper instead of purple. He hoisted Link up by the armpit and took his face in his hand. “Anyway, I’ll have plenty of time to spend with you, won’t I?” he asked sweetly. His grip on Link’s face tightened enough to leave white indentions where his fingertips pressed against his skin. He crashed his lips against Link’s own, his tongue forcing its way down his throat. Link’s whole body went rigid, his shoulders cringing inwardly.

Zelda instinctively pressed Lola’s head against her, hoping to shield her view as Valen pulled away from the languid kiss, dragging Link’s now bloodied bottom lip between his teeth.  “Bring him back to me when they’re done,” Valen barked to Bohr. “I need to make a few preparations anyway to make sure he doesn’t try frying me with that trusty Hylian magic he knows how to use.  Oh, and Zelda?” he addressed her over his shoulder as he strode away. “If I so much as _suspect_ that you plan on coming back here, I will destroy you.”

Of the hundred guests who had filled the room before, now only Sidon, Teba, and Yunobo remained, the rest either laying on the floor as cooling corpses, or having escaped during the chaos.

Sidon placed a comforting hand on Zelda’s shoulder. “We’ll be waiting just outside the door for you when you’re ready,” he said gently, before stealing a sorrowful glance at Link, who sat on his knees with a glazed look.  Bohr turned away, his massive body seemingly pulled downwards.

Once they had gone, Zelda sank to her knees before Link, angling her face to catch his eyes. “I can’t leave you here,” she whispered, her voice wavering with the threat of tears.

Link’s eyes focused on hers and softened, the ghost of a smile playing on his swollen lips. “Of course you can.” He clasped his chained hands around hers, and for an indeterminable amount of time his eyes roved her face carefully, _tenderly,_ as if he were memorizing every pore.  After a while, his gaze shifted to Lola, who wept silently a few feet away.

“Lulu,” he called softly. “Come give me a hug.” She approached him hesitantly, turning her face away as quiet whimpering sobs forced their way from her throat.

She pressed her face against his chest. “I don’t understand why we can’t take you with us,” she cried, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t want to leave without you. I _can’t_!”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “Because you’re my strong girl, and I love you more than you’ll ever know.”

Lola pulled away and shook her head furiously. “ _No I can’t!”_ she screamed, grasping handfuls of hair in her fists. “ _No I can’t no I can’t no I can’t!”_

Link looked up at Zelda forlornly, and Zelda took it as her cue to pull Lola away. Lola shrieked and clawed at Zelda’s arms, but Zelda didn’t loosen her grip and did her best to drag her towards the exit. Meanwhile Bohr gingerly helped Link to his feet to lead him away.

“I’ll come back for you,” Zelda called, no longer bothering to hide her tears. Lola had since stopped screaming, and now lay limp in her arms, every now and then convulsing as the remnants of her hysteria caused her breath to hitch.

Link inclined his head, as if confirming a truth. “I know,” he said. “In the meantime…take good care of Lola.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm changing the rating to "E" and updating the archive warnings- not because I anticipate getting any more explicit than I already have, but because from here on out the story will obviously deal with non-consensual intercourse, and the emotional fallout that it causes. I'll be sure to give a little warning at the beginning of any chapter that includes those themes so you know what to expect.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for the end of this chapter. Nothing explicit happens (just some mention of violence/gore) but there are definite themes of the emotional toil that rape and violence has. This chapter is dark, y'all!
> 
> "If ever you find yourself in Hell, keep going."

 Sidon, Yunobo, and Teba were waiting with their backs to the door when Zelda slid through it with Lola in tow.

“Oh, perfect timing!” Sidon exhaled, placing two massive hands on Zelda’s shoulders. “We had a little bit of trouble while you were in there.”

Zelda looked from Sidon to Yunobo, who appeared shaken but unharmed, and then to Teba, whose bow was slightly lowered but still had an arrow nocked in preparation. Further down the hall, the bodies of Hylian soldiers were strewn like ragdolls.

She loosed a breath and looked to the three champions in alarm. “What happened? Why are my soldiers—“ she cut herself off. “Were they controlled too?”

Yunobo opened his mouth to speak, but Teba cut him off. “Don’t know, and doesn’t matter. All I know is that we can’t trust the Army, and we need to find another exit. Looks like he’s not gonna make this easy for you.”

Zelda tented her hands over her nose and mouth as if in prayer. After a moment of deliberation, she spoke. “The Docks.”

Sidon raised his eyebrows, and Yunobo looked in confusion to everyone’s faces. “I don’t know what that is,” he said baldly.

“We’ll escape through the Docks. We haven’t derived much use of it since the reconstruction, as investing in a Navy was…well, less essential to me. They should be fairly empty. From there, Prince Sidon should be able to swim us to out to safer territory.” She turned to Yunobo. “Can you carry my daughter and use your protection at the same time?”

Yunobo stole a nervous glance at Lola, who stood nearly motionless, a faraway, glassy expression in her eyes. “…Yes, I-I suppose I can.”

“Good.” She eyed Teba. “Can I trust you to scout the way ahead of us? I imagine your eyesight is much better than any of ours, and you can retreat quickly if you find yourself in trouble.”

Teba crossed his winged arms. “I can do that.”

Zelda nodded, then exhaled heavily. “Well then. Shall we?”

* * *

 

The group hurried their way through strangely deserted corridors, passing any soldiers or staff too quickly to register any possible reactions. As they descended further into the castle’s bowels, Zelda felt the tremor of unwelcome memories of over one hundred years ago creep into her mind. She was losing her kingdom. Again.  She forced the thoughts aside as she felt damp air settle onto her skin in a heavy layer.

“Is this it?” Sidon asked, slightly winded from the adrenaline.

The dark water, still as glass, stretched before them, narrowing into a large stream where it joined the rest of the moat.

“Yes,” she confirmed, looking at the stagnant underground lake with not a little apprehension. “Yunobo can take the boat if Prince Sidon can carry Lolita and me.”

Truthfully, it was doubtful that the precarious-looking canoe would even support Yunobo’s weight, but she couldn’t concern herself with that. Despite his fearful demeanor, he was the least in need of protection among all of them.

Sidon’s mouth twisted in mild apprehension before he dove in, his large crimson head emerging from the black surface a few moments later.

Teba, who had soared outside to assure the safety of their escape route, landed on the slick wooden pier next to Zelda. “Looks like the Gerudo have left – there’s quite a few of those… Yiga …things …gathered at the gatehouses.” He said, his sharp eyes grave with concern.

“That’s why we’ll take the water route. I’ve never seen one that could swim,” Sidon chirped from below. “Where shall I be taking you, Your Majesty? You’re welcome to take refuge in Zora’s Domain.”

Zelda shook her head. “Thank you for your hospitality, Prince Sidon, but I need to see Lady Impa in Kakariko first and foremost.”

He flashed her a toothy grin. “Well, that settles that, then! Hop on – though the water is mildly uncomfortable, I must admit.”

She offered him a grateful smile, then turned to Teba. “Thank you for your help. I expect I’ll unfortunately be in need of it again in the near future.”

Teba gave her a shallow bow. “It’s the least any of us can do, your Majesty. I’ll be happy to be of assistance. Until then, I wish you a safe passage.” With that he took off, his body skimming the surface of the water before disappearing into the outside world.

“W-wait, what about me? How do I steer this thing?” Yunobo asked, looking very uncomfortable on the precariously rocking boat.

“I’ll pull you to shore, my friend!” Sidon said cheerfully, tethering himself to the canoe like a cart horse.

Zelda offered her hand to Lola, who wordlessly allowed herself to be led to the water’s surface. Somewhat shyly, Zelda leapt into the water to paddle onto Sidon’s back, hissing in disgust at its oily slickness. Lola followed suit, not reacting aside from a small whimper at the shock of cold.

“Hold on tight,” Sidon advised them before taking off with alarming speed.

* * *

 

They arrived in Kakariko surprisingly quickly, having dropped Yunobo off a safe distance away from the Castle beforehand. Sidon continued on to Zora's Domain, reiterating his invitation.

Zelda and Lola’s clothes were hopelessly soaked and clung to their bodies like a second skin, the misty winter air biting painfully at every surface.

” _Your Majesty!”_

An older Sheikah man ran to greet them, a mix of panic and relief creasing his face. “What’s going on? Lady Paya arrived a few hours ago and said there was a coup—“

“I’ll explain later, Dorian. For now we need a fresh change of clothes and to see Lady Impa immediately,” Zelda cut him off, her voice clipped with both urgency and the cold.

Dorian looked from her to Lola with a grim expression then nodded curtly. There was a question in his eyes that he dared not speak. “Of course, Your Highness. Forgive me – let’s get you both warm first and foremost.”

A few hours later Zelda was bathed and dry in Impa’s large living room, wrapped comfortably in the traditional Sheikah robe meant for the winter months. Lola sat on a throw-cushion beside her wearing a similar robe, her eyes blank. She hadn’t said a word since they had left Link in that ballroom. Silent as a shadow, she simply followed and obeyed.

It worried Zelda much more than the panicked crying that had seized her hours before.

“Your Highness, I’m so relieved to see you’ve made it out safe!” Paya emerged from upstairs, a tray of tea in her hands. She set it down in front of Zelda and Lola and began to serve them.

Zelda’s breath tremored in her chest. “I’m relieved you made it out safely yourself. I…I saw some…people who weren’t so fortunate and—“

Paya pushed a hot mug of tea in her hands. “One thing at a time,” she said quietly, a soothing smile at her lips.

Zelda only nodded dumbly in response and took a ginger sip of the scalding hot tea. Though she had never disliked Impa’s timid granddaughter, she had never been particularly drawn to her either. At times, she even felt a faint nibbling of irritation towards her (not unlike the feeling she’d had of Mipha, now that she thought about it). Women like that –demure, yielding, all blushes and coy giggles—seemed primed to stroke the male ego, and Zelda found herself at odds with the concept.

However, tonight there was a poised maturity that Zelda had never recognized in the young woman; she was soft and comforting yes, but surprisingly sturdy – like the silk of her robes, rather than like the rice paper that lined the walls. She found herself grateful for it.

“Will Lady Impa be available to speak with me this evening?” Zelda asked once she had drunk half of her tea. Lola still sat silently next to her, her teacup untouched and cooling.

A tight smile pulled at Paya’s lips. “Unfortunately grandmother is quite tired this evening, but she is…aware of the situation. She’ll be glad to speak with you tomorrow afternoon if that is alright with you.”

“Oh.” Zelda let out a small sound of surprise. “O-of course, that’s fine. Is she…is she feeling alright?”

A shadow of sadness passed over Paya’s face momentarily. “Oh, no, she’s just…quite old, now. Don’t you worry yourself about her, Your Majesty – I know you’ve got enough on your plate.”

After a light dinner of pumpkin soup – which Zelda barely touched, and Lola didn’t touch at all – Paya showed them to their room. It was the same room that she had always stayed at – sometimes alone, and sometimes with--

The sharp pang of loss gripped her then. The image of Link’s face as she left him – his fear kept so carefully hidden under a hard shell of self-confidence – burned itself into her mind’s eye. She had no idea what Valen was capable of, nor did she truly know what he had planned for Link, but the… _hunger_ with which he had beheld Lola, and then Link made her ill. She had to get him out as soon as possible. Every moment she lingered brought him closer to potential death, and she couldn’t lose him again.

She _wouldn’t._

She drew in a quiet breath, willing a pleasant smile before she turned to Lola, who sat on the edge of the bed staring fixedly at an unseen point somewhere between her feet and the rest of the floor.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like anything to eat before bed, sweetie? You didn’t touch dinner.”

Lola made no move to respond.

“Lolita—“

“ _No one calls me that!”_ Lola snapped, spinning around to fix her blue eyes, blazing with fury, on Zelda.

Zelda sat in stunned silence for a few moments. “Alright,” she said carefully, “I apologize. I’ll use ‘Lola’ from now on, if that’s what you prefer.”

Lola only grunted and pulled the covers over herself, her back facing Zelda. A horrible realization came over her in a gut-wrenching wave.

“Did he—Valen—did he do anything to you—“

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

The girl’s rebuff hurt her more than she thought it would. Her throat constricted against the cold fear that roiled in her stomach.

“ _Please_ Lola – you don’t have to go into details, but I need to know. _Did he do anything to you?”_

There was a long silence then, so heavy that Zelda feared she would suffocate. Then, finally, Lola spoke. “No. H-he seemed like he wanted to but—“ her voice broke and she fell silent again for a moment.

Zelda let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. When she dared to speak again, it was in a small, quiet voice. “Why didn’t you tell me anything?”

She saw Lola’s back stiffen before the girl shot up. “Uh, how could I?” she snapped. “It wasn’t my place, and you seemed so happy I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Lola, you—“she exhaled in incredulous, humorless laughter. “You are much more important to me than _anything_ in this world. Especially a sham marriage.”

Lola snorted derisively and rolled her eyes before turning back around.

Zelda felt her cheeks grow hot, then cold. “You _are_! Surely, you can’t think—Lola, _please—“_

“ _Please_ quit talking. I’m tired and I want to sleep, okay?”

For the first time since the coup, Zelda felt truly helpless then. She had lost her kingdom, her first love, and now her daughter. Every action she took seemed to dig her deeper into some sort of predicament.

_Tomorrow,_ she told herself, like a mantra. _Tomorrow I’ll make things right. Somehow._

For now, though, all she could do was try and sleep, the sounds of Lola’s muffled sobs dragging her deeper into darkness.

* * *

 

Though her muscles ached to the point of failure, Jolene forced her wings to keep her aloft, her fear-borne adrenaline providing her the strength to do so. She was one of the few remaining members of the Royal Council to defy Valen’s coup – though admittedly, she did so through duplicitous means; she had seen what had happened to Kyrie, the Gerudo councilor, and she wasn’t keen to repeat her fate.

The letter hidden in her breast pocket seemed to burn through the thick layers of her coat. Since the coup a few days ago, she had been acting as a secret emissary between the Royal Guard Valen had taken as something of a right-hand man (reluctant as he was) and the Guard’s long-term boyfriend, a Gerudo man by the name of Faisal. She hadn’t dared read the contents of the letters, but she knew they were planning _something_ to help oust Valen from his roost, and she was all too happy to do what she could to help.

She sailed through one of the windows of what was once the inner sanctum to catch her breath before meeting up with Bohr to deliver the letter. As eager as she was to get rid of the physical proof of her deception, she couldn’t appear like she had just been on a several hour trip and flying like her life depended on it.

Once her heart had slowed down to something resembling a normal heartbeat, she began her descent to the Observatory.

“Enjoy your little trip?”

Jolene whipped her head around to face a smug-looking Rayu, whose once paper-thin, wrinkled skin had regained the supple elasticity of a man in his early fifties. 

She made an effort to puff out her chest in a show of faux-confidence. “Yes,” she said in a clipped voice. “I did. It’s important for us Rito to stretch out our wings every now and then.”

He puckered his lips and nodded in a mock expression of discernment.  Jolene made an effort not to shudder at his disconcerting, new-found youth, and the new attitude that came with it. 

“Funny,” he said, falling into step beside her. “I don’t ever recall you being much of a flier.”

“Well, I suppose you weren’t paying very much attention back then, now were you?” She eyed him in distaste.  “Though that’s understanding, seeing as how it’s known that people after a certain age start to have issues with memory.”

Rayu’s eyes sharpened in anger. “You’d do well to remember to whom it is you speak!” he bellowed.

_That_ was more like the Rayu she was familiar with.

“I do,” she replied shortly, and hurried on ahead, keen to be out of his company.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to, Jolene,” he called after her. “I suggest you choose very carefully who you align yourself with.”

* * *

 

He wanted to sleep forever.

That way, he could escape.

Escape the searing pain from the newly-cauterized brand in his chest. Escape the dull throbbing of the countless bruises that littered his battered body. Escape the headache that threatened to split his head in two, threatened to pop his eyeballs right out of their sockets.

Most of all, though, he wanted to escape the newly torn wound that now existed so deep inside of him, he knew he’d never be able to reach it. He wanted to escape the agonizing, _aching_ sense of _violation_ that made him feel _sick_ and _angry_ and _sad_ and _helpless_.

And while sleep could dull the distress that wracked his body, that new wound – the one that hurt him much more deeply than physically – only intensified during it. Something had been shattered, and had turned the broken shards of his thoughts, dreams, and emotions into weapons through which he could be tortured anew.

Even if he was able to escape this place…even if she came back for him…it would still exist inside him.

At least he still had that bottle of cognac he had slipped out of Valen’s chamber during his last…visit. It wasn’t anywhere near an escape, but it made things closer to bearable.

Curling into a ball on the cold stone floor, he pulled the tattered remains of what was once a blanket over himself and screwed open the bottle. It was a small comfort to not feel so exposed.

The hoarse wails of a young woman, punctuated by Valen’s smooth baritone voice caused him to stiffen.

“Now, now, my dear…I know it hurts, but you’re going to have to be a _little_ quieter. You’re going to wake up your roommate, and he’s been known to be rather…shall we say, _ornery.”_

They were just outside his cell now. Link dared not breathe.

The girl sobbed. Valen barked an order to someone to open his cell, and threw her in. “Let’s hope he doesn’t feel tempted to reclaim some of his masculinity with you,” he purred to her as she squeaked a plea of gibberish. “I know you’re probably feeling quite sore after our tryst, but so is he.” He laughed, and the sound made Link’s blood curdle. “I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear. We’re having a barbeque, so it should be quite exciting for the both of us.”

It wasn’t until he was sure Valen was gone that Link dared to sit up to look at his new cellmate, who was huddled in a far corner hyperventilating. His heart stopped.

She was heartbreakingly young – no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. Only the ragged patches of a servant’s dress covered her flat, still developing frame. Her feet were bent at unnatural angles, and Link realized with dawning horror that she had been hobbled. Even if he were able to set the bones now, she’d never walk properly again. Not for the first time, he lamented the emptiness that now occupied him instead of his Champion’s powers. The brand that now marred his chest somehow kept him from accessing that little reservoir where he kept those small pieces of his friends’ souls.

If it weren’t for that brand, Valen would have been ashes in the wind by now.

“Hey,” he said softly, just loud enough for the girl to hear. There was a small change in her breathing, but she wasn’t calming down. He crawled towards her slowly. When she realized he was coming closer, she let out a small pleading moan.

He stopped, about an arm’s length away from her. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he assured her quietly. “I know you’re in pain. I…I have something that can help.”

The girl regarded him warily, her breath still hitching violently in her chest. Link considered what he must look like to her – a heavily scarred man twice her age, naked except for a bloodstained, dirty blanket draped about his shoulders, with wild eyes and even wilder chest-length hair. He cringed inwardly.

“I – um,” he smoothed his hair down self-consciously, and wrapped the blanket a little tighter to better hide himself. “I have a daughter a couple of years younger than you.”

This seemed to be of comfort to the girl, for she relaxed minutely, and something like sympathy softened the panic in her eyes. “Is she…here?” she asked, her voice breathy and hoarse from screaming.

It took Link a second to understand, but he shook his head tightly. “No…That’s why I am.”

She nodded in understanding, and regarded him curiously between cringing fits of pain.

He grabbed the bottle back from where he had hastily hidden it. He held it up to her as proof of his intentions. “May I?” he asked. She hesitated a moment before nodding her consent.

He sat down next to her a few feet away, figuring that after her ordeal, if she _had_ to have a male in her general vicinity, it’d be much less threatening to have him beside her rather than in front of her. Her posture loosened once he did so.

“Did…did he, um…you too?” the girl asked quietly as Link began to unscrew the cap.

Link stared at the bottle for a long while. “Yes. Me too.” He handed her the bottle, which she looked at doubtfully. “Take small sips until you get used to the burning. Don’t gulp it like water or else it will come up through your nose and you’ll be in even worse shape.”

She pursed her lips in distaste before screwing her eyes shut and taking a sip. She coughed, a bit of the liquid dribbling down her chin, but she managed to swallow the majority of the mouthful. She looked at him for approval, blinking back tears of aversion.

He gave her a curt nod. “Good. Now keep sipping until you start to feel dizzy.”

The girl gave him one last suspicious look before raising the bottle to her lips again. Link turned his attention to her feet.

Her ankles were hopelessly broken, the bones poking out from under her skin in places. He winced at the fact that they were on the hard ground, but didn’t feel the minimal comfort his blanket could give them would override the discomfort she would surely feel at being confronted with his…maleness, especially after what Valen had certainly put her through.

“Feeling anything yet?” he asked after she had swallowed a few mouthfuls.

“I think so, yeah…” she said, her eyes a bit glassy and unfocused.

He nodded. “Okay, well I’m going to have to set the bones.”

Her eyes suddenly grew sharp with panic. “What?”

“The pain won’t get any better until the bones are set. And you’ll get a fever if you stay like this. Keep drinking.”

In all honesty, he doubted Valen would let her live long enough to even _develop_ a fever. _A barbeque_ , he had said. A sick sense of dread fought its way to his throat. He wouldn’t let that happen.

He waited another ten minutes or so, until the girl started hiccupping. He took the bottle and put it behind him.

“No, please I don’t want my bones set! I feel – _hic!_ – better, honestly!” She slurred, her eyes rolling wildly like a panicked horse.

Link positioned himself in front of her and placed his hands around her mid-calf. She flinched and gave him a look of both fear and betrayal. Something broke in his chest. “I’m not going to touch you in any way you don’t want me to,” he said steadily, keeping his eyes locked on hers. “If you really don’t want me to do this, just tell me. If you’re not comfortable…” he trailed off.

She stared back at him for a while, the look of betrayal slowly fading, though her fear remained palpable. He could feel her fighting the urge to recoil from his touch, to shrink away from his presence –from the dreaded _maleness_ of him that she had learned was so dangerous and horrible and vulgar. After a while, she screwed her eyes shut, taking in a few deep breaths before giving a clipped nod.

Link shifted his hands further down towards the wound. “What’s your name?” he asked.

“C-Cassandra,” she warbled, her teeth practically chattering with dread.

“Cassandra,” he repeated, his hands inching a little bit closer to her shattered ankle. “I know someone named Kass, but he’s a guy. And Rito.” He glanced up at her. “I find it helps if you have something to bite,” he said. “I’d offer you my arm, but I need it. I suggest either your own arm, or this blanket.”

Her eyes went to the blanket, and she shook her head vigorously. She raised her hand to her mouth.

“Not your hand,” he said sternly. “There are too many delicate bones and tendons. I’ve seen people bite clean through them. Paralyzed a few fingers in the process.” He tapped at the fleshy part of his forearm. “Bite here, into the thickest part.”

She looked him in the eye and positioned her forearm into her mouth, then nodded.

She screamed into her arm, biting down until blood flowed down freely as the bones snapped back into their places with audible “pops” below his fingers.

By the time he finished with the first ankle, her face was deathly pale, and she shuddered with waves of pain. He didn’t give her time to recover before he moved on to the next one.

Her teeth were buried so far into her flesh he feared she’d bite a chunk clean off, until her face went slack and she listed off to the side.

He propped her back so that she leaned against his shoulder. Her head lolled back and forth, and he fanned her waxen face, cursing the lack of water or bandages. He wouldn’t be able to control the swelling, or restrict her movement, but at least the pain would subside in another hour or so.

Not that it would make much of a difference, he thought darkly, but what little comfort he could afford her before her time was up, he would do.  

The girl trembled against him.

_This could have been Lola_.

He felt physically ill at the thought, and shut his mind off from pursuing the subject any further.

“How are you feeling, Cassandra?” he asked.

She groaned. “A bit nauseous and dizzy but…kinda better in a way. My legs don’t hurt as bad…th-thank you.” She paused, and swallowed heavily. “H-he said something about a barbeque. What do you think he meant?”

He gave her a non-committal hum. “It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen.” He knew _exactly_ what he meant by that.  Burning prisoners alive had been _technically_ banned in Hyrule for at least the past few centuries – it had been deemed unnecessarily cruel and unusual. To make it worse, there were ways to keep the prisoners alive beyond the relatively merciful death of smoke inhalation. It was rumored that the last King – Zelda’s own father – had ordered the execution of several Yiga generals in this manner shortly after having been convinced of their presence as proof of the Calamity’s return.

Of course, that’s _exactly_ why Valen would be interested in trying it again.

To Link’s relief, Cassandra didn’t question him on how he would assure that it wouldn’t happen.  He was already starting to feel even sicker at the idea, and he was certain his resolve would break at the slightest resistance to it.

“Why don’t you drink a bit more? It’ll help you fall asleep,” he offered, helping her hold the bottle to her lips. She drank eagerly.

When she was done, she settled back against him, her previous discomfort with his presence dissolved with the alcohol and shared trauma. “I didn’t get your name,” she said a bit drowsily.

 “Link,” he said after a beat.

She twitched in recognition. “That sounds familiar…”

“Does it?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

“Yeah…can’t remember how, though…” she yawned. “What’s your daughter’s name?”

“Lola,” he replied, attempting to keep his voice steady.

Cassandra yawned again. “That’s a cute name,” she said, her voice drifting. “You seem like a good dad. I hope you get to see her again.”

He couldn’t help the surprised whimper that escaped his throat, no more than he could help the hot tears that began to spill over his bruised cheeks. “Hope so too,” he rasped, praying she wouldn’t notice he was crying.

“G’night, Link,” she sighed.

“’Night, Cassandra,” he whispered back once her breathing had deepened into a slow, steady metronome.

He was crying openly, silently, when he snapped her neck. Mercifully her body didn’t convulse much, if at all. It was as if she had been transferred peacefully from one state of being to another; from sleep, to death.

A powerful wave of sickness overcame him, and he vomited into the latrine in a corner of the cell until there was nothing but bile.

He hated himself. He’d seen many battles – and that was without counting those he could no longer remember of his past life – but never had he had to do something like this. The fact that he knew it was a mercy to her didn’t help at all.

Valen wouldn’t just die for this. He’d tear him apart, piece by piece, then heal him so he could tear him apart all over again. Again, and again, and again…

He didn’t know how long he had lied there on the floor next to her cooling body when he heard a pair of approaching footsteps and Valen’s chipper whistling.

“Rise and shine, Cassie sweetheart! I’ve got big plans for you today.”

Link’s stomach constricted as he heard Bohr wordlessly open the cell. Valen stepped over Link as if he were no more than a sack of trash. “Cassan—“

He whipped around to where Link lay and landed a hard kick to his ribs. Bohr shouted in alarm.

“ _What did you do to her?”_ he snarled, as Link struggled to get his breath back.

“Found her like that,” he wheezed.

Another bone shaking kick landed square in his chest.

“You’re such a liar,” Valen said coldly. “You mean to tell me she just happened to mysteriously break her neck in the middle of the night all by herself?” A serpentine smile crept to his lips, and his voice suddenly turned saccharine. “You’re a lot more vicious than I give you credit for, Link. Killing an innocent young girl in cold blood like that. Were you jealous?”

Link glared up at Valen, his breath ragged in his bruised chest.

Valen regarded him with a tender, sensual look that made his toes curl in disgust. “It’s sweet that you think you’re enough to satisfy me, but I have diverse tastes, you know.” He reached out to stroke Link’s tearstained cheek, and he instinctively flinched away from his touch. Valen either seemed not to notice or to mind. “Don’t worry, though. I’ll be sure to give you the attention you deserve. You still need to be punished, though, sadly. Bohr!”

Behind him, Bohr straightened to attention. Link dared not look at him, but he could tell the larger man’s face was taut with worry.

“Get the little Hylian cleaned up and presentable, and bring him to my chambers in no more than an hour. And get rid of the girl’s body.”

Before Bohr could respond, Valen strode away.

Once they were alone, Bohr reached out a large, gentle hand to his former Captain. Link accepted it and raised to his feet.

“How are you holding up?” Bohr asked gingerly. Link averted his eyes in response. “Yeah, that was a stupid question, I’m sorry.” There was a beat of silence between them before Bohr spoke again. “Faisal’s been getting my letters,” he said in a low voice.

Link whipped his head up to him.

“He’s going to try and find the Prin—I mean the Queen. We’re _going_ to get out of here, Link. Just…do your best to hold out a little longer. To… _obey_.”

Link glowered up at him with such intensity that Bohr nearly was nearly staggered.

“Don’t look at me like that, Link! You know what I mean. If you keep up these little acts of resistance, you won’t last the week. Try and…” he swallowed, a bit disgusted with what he was about to propose. “Try and…act like you’re…coming around.”

Link felt the room grow cold. “No.”

Bohr grabbed him by the shoulders, his brown eyes wide and pleading. “Link, _please._ He’s trying to break you. To _tame_ you. As long as he believes it’s possible, he’ll keep you alive.” Bohr’s eyes slid to the girl’s body in the cell. “He…thought you were jealous. Use it to your advantage.”

Link screwed his eyes shut and took several short breaths, holding back the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him. He nodded curtly, his eyelids still pressed together.

Bohr squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. “I’m here for you, Captain. We’re _going_ to get out of this, and we’re going to get this goddamned castle back.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ohhhh man it's been so long!
> 
> I'm so sorry about that, guys! I've had a LOT happen! Not bad things - just a lot of stuff! Thanks for continuing to read. I hope to be more timely with the next chapter! (It'll be an exciting one!)

It was the pain that came back first to Aya. Searing, sharp pain that radiated from her back in ebbing waves.

Then came the sound – or rather, the lack of it. It was deathly silent, though she could sense that she was outside somewhere.

She remembered the wedding, chaos…and a dull ache of the brand on her back. Then, the feeling that _something_ had hijacked her body from the neck down. As if she had gone numb while her limbs moved on their own accord. She had… _attacked_ Link and the Princess (or Queen, now?). And then, Link had done _something_ and next thing she knew, there was a flash of red, the sound of breaking glass, the skin on her back feeling like it was getting ripped apart, a sensation of flying, and…then… nothing.

Aya forced her eyes open and the gray winter sky came into view. She had landed in a snowbank, she realized, the wet slush nipping at her through her ceremonial armor. That’s why she wasn’t dead---or paralyzed.

Slowly, she forced herself up, the nerves on her back screaming in protest. She must have been thrown against a torch or something before careening out the window, as she became conscious of the fact that the fabric on her back had been singed, some of the metal bits warped from having been partially melted.

She could also feel bits of shards of glass embedded in her flesh, though she avoided touching the patches of skin that were exposed to the frigid air.

Somewhere in the sky above, she thought she could hear the sound of great wings flapping, but it passed soon enough for her to dismiss it as pain-addled mind tricks.

The winter air was once again heavy with silence.

It was not a peaceful silence, like that during a gentle snowfall in a birch tree forest, but rather an oppressive, ominous one; the type of silence that precedes the chaos of calamity.

Her labored breaths felt uncomfortably loud to her ears, and despite her pain, the animalistic instinct to _escape_ overpowered all.

There were no soldiers on the castle grounds that she could see, strangely enough.  It was as if the winter had frozen time itself.

Her uneasiness grew.

Careful to take quiet but brisk strides, she made her way to the nearest gatehouse and ascended an iron ladder to get to the parapet.  It was a risk, as soldiers were almost always stationed upon the walkways that lined the top of each curtain wall, but surely it was a better option than traversing the ground in open view.

There was no one.

What happened? Had the castle been left defenseless during the wedding? Did Valen somehow order all of the soldiers away from the castle grounds?

As Aya made her way carefully to the outer curtain wall, a grunting and the clash of metal broke the thick air of silence.

On the ground below outside of the castle grounds was the towering, black-clad form of a man with a shock of long, red locs. Two smaller figures in familiar looking red and black bodysuits flanked him, curved scythes glinting dangerously in their hands.

With an inhuman cry, one of the Redead Yiga leapt at the large man, slashing viciously with its scythe.

The man narrowly avoided the blade and clumsily attempted to return a strike of his own, but to no avail.

This wasn’t looking good. He was exhausted, and if one of these creatures was challenge enough, then he’d have no chance against two…

Aya drew in a deep breath, steeling herself against the pain in anticipation, and leapt on one of the Yiga creatures with her daggar drawn, hacking through its neck.

It fell stiffly to the side, its masked head hanging by just a flap of skin.

The man in black turned to her in shock, his face nearly completely hidden besides a large pair of bright, cats-green eyes. They briefly swept over the tatters of her ceremonial Royal Guard armor, and something like recognition flashed within them. He had little time to process Aya’s sudden arrival, however, as the remaining Yiga Redead was already winding up for its next attack.

His massive hand gripped his scimitar in grim anticipation, and Aya lunged at the creature, bringing her sword down hard enough to cleave its shoulder nearly in two.

“Aim for its neck!” she cried out. It wouldn’t react in pain to her attack, but at least it would have a lot harder of a time using its weapon with its arm out of commission.

Swinging his scimitar in a wide arc, he slashed a horizontal path through the Redead’s neck.

It immediately crumpled to the icy ground, its head rolling freely from its shoulders.

Aya released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and the large man’s black-clad shoulders dropped visibly.

“Are you…okay?” she asked tentatively. The pain, temporarily kept at bay by the adrenaline, creeped back to her in exponentially growing waves.

“I’m fine,” the man answered, his voice of a deep, rich timbre. “ _You,_ however…don’t look so good.” His speech was stilted with a light accent.

Her bloodless lips tightened in a reluctant smile. “I don’t feel so good, quite honestly.”

The man’s thick, ruddy eyebrows knitted together in concern. “Let me get you out of here.  Is it alright if I pick you up?”

Aya drew a shaky breath. “If you can avoid my back, then yeah. That’d be…” her voice trailed off as a cold static filled her head and the world began to tilt.

Suddenly, she felt herself lifted up, up, up, until her head slumped over the man’s shoulder, her arms loosely flopped around his neck.

After that, the static grew until it completely clouded her ears and vision, and eventually faded to black.

* * *

 

Watery sunlight filtered through the bedroom window, persistently assaulting Lola’s eyes even through closed eyelids.

She didn’t want to get up. She wanted to sleep forever - or at least until this nightmare was over – but daylight insisted on rousing her awake.

Her head pounded in protest as she forced herself upright. Her eyes felt cottony from the dried tears, and her limbs were strangely light and seemed to move on their own accord.

Without thinking she made her way down the steep wooden staircase that led to the main foyer of the house.

The younger Sheikah woman – Paya?—who had been busily dusting off a heavy-looking wooden buffet, turned to regard her in surprise.

“Oh, Mistress Lola! You’re awake…! You must be starving—you wait right here, let me fetch you some breakfast.” Paya wiped her hands off on her apron and hurriedly shuffled to the kitchen area, her wooden sandals clacking rhythmically as she went.

Lola sunk down onto a floor cushion before a very low table. If she were in any other state of mind, she’d be marveling at the traditional Sheikah design of the house and its furniture, and would be eager to explore the village. As of now, however, all she could do was take in her surroundings with a numb passivity.

Paya returned from the kitchen with a tray full of various bowls and small plates full of rice, grilled fish, and vegetables, and began placing each one in front of Lola.

This was a very different definition of breakfast than her father would often make her at home. Lola stared at the display before her with increasing blurriness and felt her chest wrench once again with grief.

Lola felt a tentative, gentle hand on her back.

“I know you’re in terrible pain right now, Mistress Lola,” Paya said quietly as she rubbed the girl’s back with impossible delicateness.

“I didn’t even tell him I loved him back,” Lola choked out, a wave of tears spilling over her round cheeks.

“He knows, little Mistress. Trust me.”

For reasons unknown even to Lola, this made her cry even more.

Paya squeezed in closer to the girl, until Lola’s head rested against her shoulder. “I know how scary the idea of losing a loved one is. I myself lost my mother at quite a young age.” She paused, briefly lost in memory, as she continued to rub Lola’s back in meditative circles. “But your father isn’t lost. Your mother will get him back. She pried him from death’s own clutches! They’ve both survived much greater challenges than this. In fact, they’re finalizing a plan right now, from what I hear.”

There was something in Paya’s words that quelled Lola’s grief. For the first time since that fateful evening, warm rays of hope began to blossom. Her tears once again dry, she began to control her breathing. She forced herself to look up to Paya’s dark eyes, and was met with sincerity.

“We need you to be strong, little Mistress. I’m not saying you don’t have a right to your grief, but it can’t get in the way of you living. We can’t have you looking like a half-starved little waif when we get your father out, now can we? So please, try to eat.”

Lola exhaled and nodded feebly, then picked up a small fork and began to eat. Though she hadn’t initially had much of an appetite, the more she ate the more her hunger grew, until she ravenously moved to empty each bowl.

 Paya smiled. “After you’re done, I’ll have Koko show you around the village. Then I’m sure your mother will be happy to tell you the next steps.”

* * *

 

Zelda let out an audible sigh of pleasure as she sipped the piping hot tea. She sat on the porch of Lady Impa’s house, an array of diagrams and maps spread out before her. She had a plan of attack now; all she needed was manpower.  An anonymous letter addressed to her had arrived earlier that morning, stating simply that help would arrive very soon.

Well, nothing to do but wait at this point. Her mind wandered to Link, and she sent up a small prayer for his protection. She didn’t want to think about what he must be going through, but she reminded herself that he was strong enough to survive it. She’d be coming for him soon.

She wrapped her heavy winter yukata more tightly around herself and watched the snowfall. Though spring would always be her favorite, there was something…tragically beautiful about winter. If spring was birth, with its promise of new life and colorful vivacity, then winter was death – with the cold, lifeless air and twisted corpses of trees and the utter, frozen stillness it imposed on the land.

But in that stillness was always the promise of yet a new birth—that no matter how corrupted, or still, or devastating, life would start over yet again, free from the scars of its past existence.

“Your majesty!”

A male voice cut through the winter air, and Zelda looked up in surprise to see one of the old Sheikah guards, Dorian, coming her way flanked by two figures.

One of the figures was a massively tall man dressed in black furs. His impressive mane of red locs flowed like ropes of fire down to his chest, and cat-green eyes stood out in stark contrast to his mahogany skin. He looked like a foil to the frozen winter-scape.

Leaning on him was a much, much smaller woman, with short ruddy hair and more black furs draped heavily about her shoulders.

“Your majesty,” Aya said, her voice both urgent and exhausted. “We apologize for the delay. This is Faisal. He’s been receiving intel on Valen’s activities within the Castle. His husband is also trapped under Valen’s command, and has been in charge of Link’s captivity. I believe you know of him—Bohr? Another of the Royal Guard?”

Zelda’s heart pounded in her chest. “…Yes, go on?”

Aya glanced to Faisal nervously. “We’re here to help you break them out.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They stared at each other in silence, his eyes sending icy tendrils down her spine. She knew he wouldn’t be the first to speak, so she gathered up her courage. “We don’t have to talk about this if—“  
> “Good.” He said roughly.

Wine. He needed a glass of wine.

Rayu sat at the aged round table in his study and poured himself a glass of red wine from the decanter. He stirred it around a bit before taking a sip, puckering his lips to the mild sting that pricked at his tongue.

He felt...conflicted.

After the fall of Hyrule’s reign due to the Calamity, he was part of a large minority of Sheikah who regarded the Hylians’ fate as something like retribution.  His people had been demonized for their technology in the past, and forced to live in the shadows of the Hylian majority. Then, because the young princess had taken a personal interest in these ancient artifacts (and most certainly because she believed it would absolve her of the responsibility of protecting the kingdom herself), she took on a project to restore them to working condition and use them against the impending Calamity.

Suddenly everyone was interested in what the Sheikah had to say. _Suddenly,_ their culture wasn’t some old-timey, outdated bullshit but a treasure worth rediscovering.

And then, Calamity Ganon happened.

Funny how as long as there was something to be gained from the Sheikah, the Hylians were keen on acknowledging their rights and their contributions to society.

Once things went wrong, however…

In a way, he always understood the Yiga. They were largely fools, of course – choosing to align with an ancient, demonic being that was not sentient beyond the urge to _destroy_. But what their leader, Master Kohga, lacked in logic, he made up for in cultural pride and fighting spirit. He understood the true heart of the Sheikah people, and recognized the injustice that their culture faced at the hands of the Hylian Royal family.

He was dead now, thanks to that tiny bastard of a Royal Knight, but in his stead, Valen had cropped up, promising to give the Sheikah people the future they deserved – not as underlings of an indifferent demonic force –but as a _ruling class._ All he needed was a shot at the castle…

Well, Rayu had given him that. And for what, now? He’d been in power for all of a week and thus far had only treated it as a playground for his sick fantasies. The castle staff that could escape did so in droves. Though he didn’t particularly care for Hylians in principle, he didn’t appreciate unnecessary violence. And besides – they’d need much of the castle staff to keep the kingdom running; at least until they decided who among the remaining Yiga elite would take what position.

Draining his second glass, he strode out of the room, stopping to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His face was smoother than it had been in goddess knows how long. He’d never been a handsome man, but the surprise of seeing his youth returned to him made that irrelevant. The aches and pains of old age had disappeared. He was a new person – and that was thanks to Valen’s talents in the ancient dark arts.

Surely, after this…transition period, the true work would begin. After all, all the greatest empires began with labor pains.

Valen knew what he was doing, he assured himself. And he needed Rayu’s continued to support to succeed.

So support him, Rayu would. And he’d start by taking care of a very suspicious avian member of his own Counsel.

 

* * *

 

Bohr quickly stalked the dark passageways of the dungeon, his heart pounding and his shoulder screaming in agony.

He’d gotten the latest letter from Jolene that morning; Aya had somehow survived the ill-fated wedding, and had saved Faisal from a few of the undead beasts. They were now with the Queen in Kakariko Village, and would be launching their assault to free him and Link from the Castle very soon.

First, however, he’d had to take care of the charm that marred his shoulder. The Queen had studied Aya’s ruined brand, and had figured out exactly where he’d need to burn it to negate its effects and free him from Valen’s control.

It hadn’t been pretty, as the burn had needed to penetrate the original brand’s scar tissue in order to be effective.

He did his best to ignore its mind-numbing throbbing and focus on finding Link. He’d be in his cell by now, knowing Valen’s usual schedule.

The dungeon halls were empty of guards; many of the soldiers had escaped while they could, leaving Valen’s human army quite pithy.  As such, he’d positioned the remaining ones in areas he found essential.

Obviously, the prisons didn’t count.

Link’s cell was at the end of the hall. It had since been outfitted with a small bed, table, and other essentials, and looked more like an austere room than a dungeon cell.

Bohr could see a human-sized lump under the covers. It didn’t move when he fished out the key Jolene had stolen for him and unlocked the door.

“Captain,” he whispered, approaching the bed briskly but cautiously. He gingerly pulled back the covers and Link gave a small moan of protest, moving his arms to cover his face.

Bohr placed a large hand on Link’s shoulder. “I need you to get up. We’re going.”

There was no visceral reaction to his touch, which Bohr noted with a bit of dread.

Link turned his face towards Bohr and looked up at him with bleary eyes that were slow to recognition, his movements as if his joints were all coated in molasses. A lazy cat’s smile spread to his bruised lips, and he reached out a limp arm towards him. “Might be a bit difficult for me.”

Bohr felt his stomach constrict. He’d been drugged, and would be essentially dead weight. Valen had never drugged him in his cell before… why would he suddenly decide to do so?

“The Queen is waiting for us,” Bohr said gently, and scooped up the much smaller man into his arms, cradling him like a baby. Link didn’t resist, snuggling into Bohr’s chest like a nursing kitten before slipping back in to unconsciousness.

 _The docks,_ Bohr chanted in his head like a prayer, and fingered the rectangular shape of the Sheikah Slate tucked at his hip. Jolene’s message said to meet them at the docks. There, Aya and Faisal would be waiting for him with their own Sheikah Slates for escape, let in by Jolene.

He knew the dungeons would likely be empty, but the corridors were disconcertingly so. A small knot of dread began balling itself up in his stomach, but he ignored it and chose to consider the lack of staff to deal with a blessing.

However, by the time he got to the last chamber just before the entrance to the docks and had not seen one person, that small knot of dread had grown into a searing ball of alarm that resonated in every nerve of his body.

Only the massive wooden portal stood now between them and freedom, but _something was not right._

Link remained still as death in his arms, only the subtle rise and fall of his chest evidence of the contrary.  Bohr wished desperately that the little Captain would suddenly shake off whatever substance Valen had loaded him with. With Link at his side, he’d go into any battle without fear – his golden figure, small as it was, was more wild and fierce than any creature that could exist in either fantasy or reality.

Instead, however, here he was curled up in Bohr’s arms, pale and scarred and broken. It felt…disconcertingly unnatural.

Still – despite his lizard-brain screaming in protest – he pressed on through the door, and his dread blossomed to horror.

“Well look at that, Rayu – they’re right on time!” Valen greeted them with a too-wide smile. Rayu and two hungry-looking members of the Yiga clan flanked him, dressed in casual clothes.

 Monsters in human skin.

Dumbly, Bohr’s words tumbled out of his mouth. “Wh-where’s Jolene?”

“I’m not even going to attempt to control you – I assume you mutilated yourself to break that charm, judging by how pale your face is. Or did we just surprise you that well?” Valen taunted, ignoring his question. Out of the corner of his eyes however, he noticed the hyena grins of the two Yiga henchmen widen a bit as Rayu shifted his gaze away.

Valen leaned back casually against the railing, blocking Bohr’s view of the water below. He pointed his chin at Link’s limp form in his arms. “He’s adorable when he’s asleep all peacefully like that, isn’t he? I suppose that makes your escape plan a little bit more difficult, though. Can’t warp two people with one Slate, now can we?” His hazel eyes twinkled maliciously. “If you ask _me,_ I actually do prefer him awake, even if he can be a vicious little wildcat.”

The way Valen’s eyes swept over Link’s body and the velvety tone of voice he took on was intimate – almost affectionate.

Bohr tensed up his body, trying not to panic. He was boxed in, and with his arms used up by holding the unconscious Captain, completely defenseless.

Valen’s nostrils flared, anticipating the impending bloodbath. His too-wide eyes never leaving Bohr’s, he jerked his head to the side. “Kill him. Grab the Captain.”

The two Yiga footsoldiers launched into a simultaneous attack, their sickles swinging towards him in a vicious arc. Lacking both the speed and agility to evade them and knowing so, he turned away and crouched low so that his armored back took the brunt of their attack, grunting in pain as their blades hit hard against the boiled leather. Though the promise of escape leaned insistently against his hip, he ignored it. He was part of the Royal Guard – his role was to serve the true Crown, and to fight until the end for his Captain.

Growling in frustration, they kicked at his back, attempting to get him off balance, and Bohr braced himself for the searing bite of their weapons.

Their plan had been foiled, and he’d never see Faisal again.

A bark of surprise resonated from somewhere behind him, but Bohr remained curled up over Link, still awaiting his fate.

Some more shouting. His fate was taking quite long.

He dared to peek from between his braced arms, and realized that his attackers were no longer flanking him.

The revelation gave him courage to look behind him.

One of the Yiga henchmen lay splayed on the ground, her eyes frozen in an expression of blank surprise.

His heart leapt. Faisal was making quick work of the other, his hulking, black-clad form cutting an impressive silhouette against the blue-gray rock walls of the docks.

A female voice rang out, calling his name. Bohr turned to face it. Aya was parrying around Valen, but it was obvious she was ill-matched. She could only evade his onslaught of attacks with quickly reducing efficacy. “… _Below_ …!” She huffed, her eyes not leaving Valen’s.

The split-second break of concentration cost her a powerful blow to her head. Her body flew against the jagged cave wall and crumpled to the ground, but she crawled to her feet moments later, Faisal rushing to her aid.

Valen’s hazel eyes glowed like embers as they fixed onto him.

Bohr wasted no more time.  He scooped Link back up into his arms and leapt into the slick, icy water below.

He surfaced a moment later, struggling to bring Link’s limp head to the surface, and a delicate, pale hand reached out to him.

The Queen’s emerald gaze stared down at him from a small vessel with an impatiently humming electric-blue box attached to the back. Her face was a maelstrom of emotion. Next to her was Lola, whose round face was drawn tight with both fear and determination. Bohr lifted Link onto the strange little boat and pushed it away.

“Go,” he sputtered, treading water back towards the dock. He could sense that it would only be a matter of time before Valen would be able to react to her presence. “I’ll help the others keep them busy.”

Zelda’s thick eyebrows knitted together until vertical lines appeared between them, but she did not protest. “I’ll need you all back safe and sound – your intel is still imperative to the kingdom.”

Bohr spared one hand to give her a grin and a thumbs up. She dipped her head to him reverently before pressing something on her Sheikah slate, and the boat spurred away at startling speed.

* * *

 

“Keep him warm, dear. He’s quite prone to hypothermia in this state.” Zelda’s voice was calm and comforting, but her eyes were set determinedly to their destination – a pair of horses outfitted in unearthly looking Ancient Bridles they’d prepared for escape.

Lola nodded and tore her eyes from the sight of her father lying wet and motionless on the boat’s floor long enough to wrap him in one of the heavy wool blankets they’d procured from Kakariko.

“What’s wrong with him…?” She asked as their vessel bumped against the moat wall.

“He’s going to be fine, my love, but we’re going to need to move quickly first. We’re not safe here.” Zelda helped Lola ashore before dragging Link with them.

One of the horses nickered nervously. Lola stared at it. “Am…I gonna have my own horse?”

Zelda blew out an exhausted breath before throwing a glance at the horses. “That certainly wasn’t the original plan, but it looks so.” She grunted as she clumsily attempted to lift Link onto one of the horses’ backs. “Oh, for goddess’ sake, Link, you really can’t help me out at all?”

“I…uh…can I ride with you instead?” Lola asked, ringing her hands.

Finally having succeeded in flopping him atop the horses back, Zelda took a firm hold of her horse’s reigns. “I would love to be able to consent, Lolita, but I can’t fit your father _and_ you on my horse. Do you need help mounting yours?”

Though Zelda’s tone was patient, Lola could sense her underlying desperation.  They were losing the precious moments that Faisal and the Royal Guards were buying them.

Lola continued to stare down her horse with bated breath. “…No…”

Her mother looked at her expectantly from atop her own horse, a hint of concern in her eyes. “…You know how to ride, do you not? There isn’t much to do besides hold on. He will follow mine without much need of intervention.”

Swallowing the knot that blocked her throat, Lola timidly took the massive beast’s reigns and made to climb atop its back. Obediently, it lowered itself to its front knees to allow her easier access. Just as she started to convince herself that it wouldn’t be _that_ bad, the horse stood back up to its full height, causing her stomach to lurch violently.

She didn’t have much time to adjust to her perch before an inhuman screech ripped through the air. The horses’ reactions were immediate; they flattened their ears and tossed their heads, eager to flee the approaching danger.

In horror, Lola realized that the snow-covered ground around them was becoming pocked with burrow-like holes. Gnarled hands of knotted, petrified flesh and bone burst through.

“Lolita - listen very closely to me, my love,” Zelda called to her, voice tight and breathless with urgency. “I’m going to lead, and all I need you to do is focus on me and trust your horse. Don’t slow it down, and don’t correct its course even if it seems I’m leading you into danger. Do you understand?”

Lola’s entire body was shaking, and her teeth were chattering too aggressively to allow for any verbal confirmation, but her mother didn’t need it. With a sharp yell she was off, and Lola’s horse launched into motion a split second after.

If a normal horse’s galloping speed seemed dizzying, their Ancient Bridle-augmented horses seemed to practically fly with lightning speed.

The world zipped by much too fast for Lola to process any of it, until it became an abstract landscape of liquefied, distorted shades of whites and blues and grays.

Only her mother – whose golden hair streamed behind her, mixing with the streaks of electric blue lights emitted by her horse’s bridle – remained clear in her vision.

Lola could not see the monsters that pursued them, but their presence pricked at her nerves like phantom fingers of rotting flesh. To her surprise, she found herself wishing that – despite her riotous speed – she could go faster. Speed was no longer her fear; in this moment, it was her lifeline.

The twisted shapes of a dark forest loomed ahead, and the first chimes of warning bells began to go off in Lola’s head.

_Turn around._

The thought wafted into existence like smoke accompanied by subtle notes of dread, but she waved it off.

Her mother continued towards the forest, her horse not slowing down in the slightest, so Lola followed.  She had somehow acquired a torch, and held its flame high above her head with one hand.

The sky around them grew dark – not as if from nightfall, but like they had just been swallowed by a beast of shadow and mist.

_This is a Dark place. You are not welcome here._

This time, the thought echoed much louder in her head until it was more of a _presence_ , and her dread bloomed into terror.

Through the thickening mist shadowy forms of naked trees began to surround them, their talon-like branches reaching towards them while others clawed at the unnatural, charcoal sky. She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but Lola thought she could make out gaping faces in those trees, their expressions warped with anguish and horror. They reminded her of charred bodies, somehow, and this sent a dreadful chill up her spine.

Their path became erratic and unpredictable as they weaved through trees with no particular logic, only slowing to avoid being knocked off their mounts by the hungry branches that reached for them.

Her mother threw a fearful glance behind her to make sure she was still there, and it was here that Lola realized they were no longer running from Valen’s undead army.

There was something else in these woods; a presence much bigger and more mysterious than any dark magic one individual could conjure, and it wasn’t happy.

The torch in her mother’s hand was a comforting beacon, and it took Lola a while to notice that the embers it gave off weren’t trailing behind them, but rather _ahead_ of them.

Eventually their path narrowed to a tunnel of sorts, made from trees embracing each other overhead.

Lola flattened herself against her mount and burst through. Dazzling sunlight splashed across her face, and her horse slowed to a leisurely jog behind her mother’s.

It was as if they had found a gateway to another world.

The malevolent presence was gone. All that remained was an almost palpable sense of peace and serenity.

Though winter held most of Hyrule in an iron grip, these woods were an oasis of spring. Tall, green grasses and various wildflowers swayed in a warm, gentle breeze.

Impossibly large trees with canopies of bright green and blossoms of pink towered overhead like protective giants.

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but Lola couldn’t help but feel they were being watched by curious little eyes.

Zelda stopped before the biggest tree Lola had ever seen and got off her horse before taking Lola’s reigns and guiding it to a halt beside her own. Her father lay against its back, unmoving, his face obscured by his damp hair.

Lola shakily got down from her horse once her mother coaxed it to its knees and immediately collapsed onto the soft grass, her body trembling as it came down from the adrenaline rush.

A booming voice nearly shocked her into unconsciousness.

“Hello, my queen. It has been ages since we last met.”

The massive tree before them shuddered to life, and a semblance of a grandfatherly face revealed itself to Lola.

The tree.

The really big tree was talking.

And he sounded like he knew her mother.

Lola gaped dumbly at her mother as she smiled warmly and replied, “Oh, we’ve had longer absences, have we not, Great Deku Tree?”

The Great Deku Tree’s wooden lips bowed in a smile, and to Lola it appeared almost rueful. “That is true, my Queen.” He paused. “I am aware of the current predicament of the Kingdom. As always, you all are welcome here for as long as you need. The koroks will show you to your chambers.”

 _Koroks…_ Lola remembered her father drawing them playfully in different places, but she had always assumed they were creatures borne of his own imagination.

“Thank you,” Zelda said gratefully, and moved to unstrap Link from her horse.

The big tree fell silent for a bit, then broke out into a grand smile. “Hello, little Lolita. It is an honor to finally see you in the flesh.”

Lola nearly jumped out of her skin. He was talking to her. She stuttered a response, and he let out a booming laugh. “The koroks are quite eager to meet you, though they are quite timid. If you feel so inclined, don’t be shy to join their games.”

“K-kay, thanks,” she responded, feeling very awkward, and then the Great Deku Tree was once again still.

From behind her, she heard her mother’s voice strain with physical effort. “Lolita, my dear, do you mind helping me again with your father?”

Zelda had gotten him down from the horse, and had placed him on a sort of sled made of blankets. “I just need you to pull up the other end a bit. We’ll need to get him to the inn in the Great Tree.

Absurdly, within the Great Deku Tree’s impossibly large trunk, a large, cozy looking knot yawned invitingly open at them. Inside, she could make out a few chambers illuminated with suspended lanterns.

It took quite a bit of effort, but they were able to get him to a bed – just big enough for one large Hylian – in the inn.

Little creatures with curious faces make of various types of leaves peered at them inquisitively from different corners of the inn. Lola recognized them from her father’s drawings, and was mildly surprised at the accuracy with which he had portrayed them.

A braver individual approached the bed, just out of their reach.  “Hello Miss Princess and Miss LittleFluff. What is the matter with Mister Hero?”

Zelda gave him a gentle smile so full of grace and benevolence it made Lola’s heart hurt. This was her _mother_ , and she was amazing, and yet Lola had been really mean to her. “He is under the influence of an elixir made from chillshroom essential oil and Hinox bile…I need a few ingredients to counteract the effects that are easily found here. Do you think you could bring them to me?”

The little korok gave an eager squeak. “Of course, Miss Princess! Anything for you and Mister Hero! What do you need?”

Zelda listed off a few ingredients, and the korok waddled away with surprising speed. She then turned back towards Link. “I really need to get him out of these clothes,” she said aloud in Lola’s direction. “It doesn’t matter how many blankets we wrap him in, as long as he’s all wet he’ll lose body heat.”

She began to peel the lapel of his shirt from his chest then froze, her face pale. Forcing a smile, she looked up at Lola. “Lolita, my love, I believe I saw some of the koroks outside appear quite keen on having you join a little game of hopscotch. Why don’t you go and humor them for a bit?”

Under normal circumstances Lola would have refused, as she was much too socially anxious to impose on a group of people (or leaf kids).

However.

Perhaps it was the way her mother’s voice strained with some buried rumble of emotion, or the way her eyes shined with an expression she couldn’t quite place, but Lola gave her a small smile back and did as she was told.

* * *

 

Zelda’s fingers trembled as they held the drenched fabric of Link’s lapel, and for a terrible moment she feared she would be sick.

Sucking in a deep breath, she continued to pull open the buttoned front of his shirt, revealing more and more of his torso.

It didn’t end.

Valen’s signature had been carved across his breast with what looked like a crude blade. Bruises of varying colors were splotched haphazardly on his body. Various gashes that had been messily stitched back together were scattered randomly on top of them.

A particularly large, angry-looking slice curved from just below his belly button to the tattooed Silent Princess flower on his hip, marring the image of the blossom.

Her hand subconsciously shot to her ribcage, where her own version of the tattoo lay hidden beneath her brazier.

An angry heat flared up from behind her eyes, and the world went blurry. Not wanting to see any more, she shucked off his pants and quickly buried him in a layer of blankets.

This was her fault.

She had been so preoccupied with trying to do the right thing – surrendering herself and her desires for the good of the kingdom, that she had unknowingly offered those who were most precious to her up as sacrificial lambs.

“Miss Princess! I brought you the goodies!”

The korok waddled back into the room, followed by a small procession of other koroks whose stubby arms were all full of the ingredients she had asked for.

Zelda thanked them, and they left the goods at her feet before filing out of the room.

Forcing one last look at his sleeping form, she passed a quivering finger over his swollen, bruised lips then retracted her hand. This all looked too familiar, from a lifetime long ago.

She stood up, swallowing her guilt, and gathered the materials she had been left. Gone was the time to wallow in self-doubt and regret; Goddess knows she’d done quite enough of that. Now was her time to be the mother her daughter needed, and the leader Link needed.

* * *

 

It was well past nightfall by the time her father was roused awake. Lola had spent the day with a small gang of koroks who all referred to her as “Miss LittleFluff”. She wasn’t sure where they had gotten the name, or if it was meant to be flattering or not, but the little forest spirits’ charm was infectious. She found herself grateful for the distraction.

Her mother had spent most of the time entering and leaving the inn, at times gathering various plants from around the woods. Each time she would pass by Lola, she’d offer her a reassuring smile, or small words of appeasement. Lola knew they were based on nothing, but she appreciated them anyway.

“Miss Princess! Miss Princess!” yelled the helper korok from the inn. “Mister Hero awakes!”

Lola shot to her feet, and Zelda straightened herself, glancing worriedly at Lola before replacing her expression with a flickering smile. “Shall we? I’m sure you’ve missed him terribly.”

As they entered his room together, Lola found herself wanting very strongly to take hold of her mother’s hand. It was absurd, of course. She was soon to be thirteen years old, so way too old for such childish actions. Also, her mother was a Queen, and Queens didn’t really hug or hold hands or kiss beyond little sophisticated pecks for particularly honorable guests.

Still, she wished that just for once her mother was not a Queen. She didn’t understand why she found herself very reluctant to face her father, but it would have been very nice to have a regular mom that would hold her against her bosom and tell her everything would be alright.

He was sat upright in bed, his knees drawn up and his chin resting casually upon them. His gaze was cast somewhere far away, and his face was alarmingly blank. He didn’t react when they walked into the room.

“Mister Hero! Your family is here!” the helper korok chirped, oblivious to the tension in the room.

Link’s eyes snapped into focus and he turned his attention to them.

Lola tried not to flinch. For a split second, there was an iciness to his regard that she had never noticed before, and it _scared_ her.

But then the mask crumbled.

His expression softened into something almost painful for Lola to look at, and he dropped his arms to his sides. “Hey, Lulu. Been a while.”

Her throat and nose tightened until she could barely breathe. “Daddy…” she choked, before running into his arms.

She had thought she’d have no more tears left to cry after her grief had wrung her nearly dry, but she was wrong. Every emotion she’d felt during the past nearly two weeks was purged through her tears.

Link said nothing. He only held her as tight as he could, his face pressed against the top of her frizzy head.

Zelda slipped outside, contenting herself to braid and unbraid her hair over and over again until a korok tapped at her thigh.

“Excuse me Miss Princess, but Miss LittleFluff is asleep. Would you like to talk to Mister Hero now?”

“O-oh, yes, of course. Thank you.” Ignoring the anxious nibbling in her stomach, she walked back to his room.

At first glance she thought he too was asleep, as though he was still sat up, his head rested against the headboard and his eyes were closed. Lola lay curled up at his side.

Once again, he didn’t seem to notice her presence. Zelda cleared her throat awkwardly, and his arctic blue gaze flashed sharply to her.

They stared at each other in silence, his eyes sending icy tendrils down her spine. She knew he wouldn’t be the first to speak, so she gathered up her courage. “We don’t have to talk about this if—“

“Good.” He said roughly.

Because she didn’t know how else to respond, she said, “Would you like me to move her to her own bed? There mustn’t be much room—“

“She’s fine,” he replied coolly, then looked away at nothing in particular.

Though the rebuff stung, Zelda felt a sense of relief at no longer being the subject of his gaze. She pursed her lips together and nodded to herself, wringing her hands together. “Well…I’ll be getting to bed myself. Sleep well.” She turned to leave.

“Zelda.”

She stopped but didn’t dare to look behind fully behind her. From her periphery she could see he was looking down towards Lola.

“Thank you,” he said, so softly it could barely be heard above the wind.

Zelda swallowed, and squared her shoulders. “You’re welcome, Link.”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "White-hot anger erupted through Link’s veins, and in a fit of fury he hurled a wooden water bucket into the far wall, where it splintered into countless pieces.
> 
> Feeling lightheaded from the combination of the hot steam and rage, he forced his breath through his nose. Calm down…calm down. Once we do something about these scars, everything will be better."
> 
> TW: Emotional angst from sexual assault PTSD. Nothing explicit, but be aware!

Daylight had yet to appear when Link awoke.

Lola still slept soundly beside him, snuggled up with her fists balled against her face the same way she used to when she was much younger.

Though she had grown considerably, to him, she still looked like the cherub baby girl who would run to him with a wide patchwork grin, asking for hugs or kisses or a story.

It’d been a long time since she’d done any of these things, of course – he supposed that’s what growing up was – but it didn’t make the idea any less bittersweet.

He wondered then how Zelda saw her. Did she appear as she had last seen her – the two-year old girl with large, shockingly blue eyes (his), a round, snub yet feminine nose (hers), and pouty, rosebud lips (his _and_ hers)?

Or had the Lola she met grown into something too different, too unfamiliar?

The thought sent a wave of guilt up from the pit of his stomach, so he shoved it aside.

Sliding out from under the covers, he readjusted the blankets to cocoon the sleeping child so that his sudden absence wouldn’t disturb her. Lola stirred slightly before settling back into stillness.

He left the room on silent feet and headed towards the inn’s spa area, where the washrooms were located.

“Oh, Mister Hero, you’re awake so early!” the korok at the front desk chimed.

Link shook his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, well. What can I say? I’m a morning person.” He scanned the small reception area, which promised a surprisingly zen experience. “I was told you’d have clothes for me as well…”

“Yep, yep!” The korok jumped down from whatever he’d been perched on behind the reception desk and emerged around the other side with a woven basket of various soaps and scented oils, as well as a folded towel and some clothes. “Please enjoy your stay, Mister Hero! Be sure to take the time to relax!”

“Thanks.” He made his way to the back, which was essentially a giant steamroom with a faucet and stool for washing. It reminded him of a very korok-like take on the hammams that were so popular in Gerudo Town.

He quickly got undressed, avoiding the steamed-up mirror that aggressively glared his naked reflection back at him.

Turning the water on as hot as he could take, he doused himself in the scalding stream, scrubbing at his skin until the suds covered it too much for him to see the remnants of Valen’s abuse. Even so, every so often his fingers would glide over his initials carved into his chest, or skin punctured by his teethmarks. Painfully, he was aware of the rivulets water that traveled down from between his legs and backside turning ruddy as it carried away the dried blood that had settled there.

His throat tightened, fighting against the sickness that rose up. He’d never be clean again. No soaps, scented oils, or scrubbing would remove the memory of Valen’s touch, or the ghost of his voice as he whispered sweet nothings and promises of pain and pleasure in his ear.

White-hot anger erupted through Link’s veins, and in a fit of fury he hurled a wooden water bucket into the far wall, where it splintered into countless pieces.

Feeling lightheaded from the combination of the hot steam and rage, he forced his breath through his nose. _Calm down…calm down. Once we do something about these scars, everything will be better._

Part of him knew this was a partial lie, but accepting it gave him enough comfort to pocket his pain into that dark place of his mind all the rest of his unpleasant emotions went.

An hour or so later he emerged wearing the white long-sleeved shirt and high-waisted Hylian trousers the koroks had provided him with. A fur-lined winter cloak with traditional Hylian motifs was draped over his back and shoulders, the hood laying flat against his back.

“Hello Mister Hero! Did you have an accident? I heard a great big crash!” the korok at the front desk said.

Link smiled flatly. “I slipped and broke a water bucket. I’ll pay for the damages in any way you need me to.”

The korok looked vaguely taken aback – or at least to the extent that a korok _could_ look taken aback – and waved his stubby arms in front of him. “No, don’t worry about it! Everything here is for you, Mister Hero! Just maybe try to be more careful in the future.”

Link’s face flushed, ashamed. “I appreciate it, and I’m sorry. Thanks for your service.”

* * *

 

“Miss Little Fluff.”

Lola groaned and turned away from the source of nuisance.

“Miss Little Fluff!”

Something bounced off of her head with a dull _–tonk!-_

“Owww!!” Lola wrapped her arms over her head to nurse the tender bump. She shot an accusing glare at the korok that floated above her pillow with the aid of what looked like a pinwheel.

The korok either did not seem to notice her annoyance, or it didn’t care. “Time to get up, Miss Little Fluff! It’s almost lunch time!”

Any grogginess that hadn’t been snapped out of her with that pebble to her head was chased out by this information. “Wait, seriously?” she asked, sitting up.

“Super seriously!” the korok answered. “I suggest you make your way over to the steam baths! They are quite nice and will make you smell better.”

Lola scoffed at his rudeness, but sniffed under her arms for good measure once the korok drifted out of the room. Well, she supposed a bath would do her some good…

Having cleaned herself up to a korok-acceptable degree, she left the inn to find her mother sitting cross-legged in a loose, blue sundress, with her father crouched beside her. They were both poring over a Sheikah Slate and an array of scattered papers. It was an odd sight that made Lola strangely anxious.

“Hey,” Lola said tentatively as she approached them. Zelda looked up, surprised, before opening into a warm smile. Lola half expected her father to greet her with a snide remark about her sleeping in so late, but he only acknowledged her with a brief once-over before turning his attention back to the papers before them.

“Good morning, Loli – er, Lola! Though I suppose it’s more like afternoon, now isn’t it?” Zelda asked.

Lola sat on the grass next to her mother. “Actually, you can call me Lolita if you’d like. I was just being a butt.” She picked at her nails and chewed on her bottom lip. “I’m sorry about how I acted back in Kakariko.”

Zelda gave a small surprised noise and looked at her daughter, then stole a quick glance at Link.   “Oh, it’s quite alright! I don’t at all hold it against you.” She paused. “But thank you for the apology…it means a lot to me.”

Lola met her eyes, and a lopsided smile dimpled her cheeks. Zelda fought the inexplicable urge to grab those cheeks and squeeze them the way the old mistresses of the castle used to do to her.

“So what’re you researching?” Lola asked, more addressing her mother than her stony-faced father. She wasn’t sure if he was angry about something or not, but she preferred to not tempt his ire.

Zelda angled the Sheikah Slate to show her some pictures of mysterious-looking runes. “I’m trying to see if there isn’t a way to block Valen’s necromancy powers altogether without necessarily having to place a rune on his person.”

She looked over her papers thoughtfully. “It seems like it should be feasible to designate areas where his magic won’t work – similar to how my charm was able to render certain objects and people invisible to the Reanimated’s view, but…well…I’ve got a lot to figure out. Not to mention, once I find the right charm, I need to be able to install it at all of the major towns.” She sighed, rubbing her temples, then gathered her papers together. “Anyway, why don’t we get some lunch? You have yet to eat anything today.”

Link slung a pack over his shoulder and stood up.  It was here Lola noticed that he wore a bandolier holding a one-handed broadsword and a wooden bow of korok design strapped across his chest. “Well. I’m off. I’ll be back in…I don’t know. A few days or something.”

Zelda gasped in surprise, while Lola scoffed.

“Wait, what? Where? _Why_?” Lola demanded, annoyed.

“Surely you need more time to heal? And isn’t it dangerous out there?” Zelda asked, incredulous.

Link appeared unaffected by their protests. “I made an elixir from some fairy dust I found here. I’m fine.” _Physically, at least…_ “And Valen isn’t keen on leaving the Castle anytime soon. He’s got a hard enough time keeping it as is. Those corpses he’s been using aren’t much of a bother for me.” He pushed past them while Zelda tried to process his words. She hadn’t dared to ask him anything about his experience with Valen, including anything that might be useful in ousting him. “I’ll be back soon.”

They watched him hop on one of the horses and gallop off with a fair amount of urgency. Lola sighed and rolled her eyes. “Well, whatever. I’m hungry.” She sauntered back towards the inn.

Zelda finished gathering her papers and followed her. “That’s…unfortunate of him. I know you didn’t get to spend much time with him, really,” she said, choosing her words carefully.

Lola shrugged. “I mean, it’s fine. It’s pretty typical of him, to be honest.” She sat down at the Korok-prepared dining table and began spooning heaps of roasted meats and vegetables onto her plate.

“Oh?” Zelda asked, her serving fork suspended over the venison.

“Yeah,” Lola replied. “He can’t stay somewhere for long. He used to be gone for like, weeks at a time sometimes back in Lurelin. I was basically a second kid to my friend’s mom.” She took a large bite of mashed potatoes.

Zelda didn’t know how to feel about this new information. Somehow it matched much better with the image of Link she had been left with – the reckless, restless, uninhibited young man who couldn’t be bothered with such boring things as _consideration_ or _planning_ – rather than the dutiful, stay-at-home father she’d thought he’d turned into.

Still…she wondered how Lolita felt about it. The girl seemed independent enough, but…

Well, so had _she_ when she herself was a girl.

“Would you get lonely sometimes?” Zelda asked tenderly.

Lola snorted. “No! I was with my best friend, and I could do kinda whatever I wanted. Plus it’s not like he ignored me when he’d get back. It was kind of a relief in a way, ‘cuz then I knew I was safe from getting roped in to one of his adventures.”

“His adventures?”

The girl threw her head back in an exaggerated portrayal of exasperation. “Ugh, yeah. He’d always be on my butt for being too much of a “homebody”, and would force me to come with him to…I don’t even know what we were doing.” She stabbed at a piece of meat angrily. “All I know is that it always ended up in chaos and me getting upset and screaming to go home.”

Zelda frowned sympathetically. “Yes…actually that sounds quite familiar.” She took a sip of her tea and leaned back, remembering. “There was a period of time…after the Calamity was defeated. The Kingdom was in shambles, so we’d had to go around Hyrule reuniting it and proving to all the local leaders that I was the true heir, and I was worth following.”

Lola perked up, her food momentarily forgotten.

“The Castle was still…well, a mess, and we were constantly on the move from one place to another. Of course, I trusted Link completely with my life – I still do – and he _always_ was able to get us out of any situation, no matter how hopeless it seemed.” Her green eyes grew foggy with reminiscence. “But it always felt like a near thing.”

Lola looked thoughtful. “Hey…I understand if you’re like, not comfortable or something. But it’d be really cool to hear some stories about—about you guys when you were…you know, still together?” Seeing Zelda’s startled expression she added quickly, “I mean, not now! And only if you want to! But I dunno, it’d be cool eventually or something.”

Sipping her tea to contemplate, Zelda nodded slowly. “Yes…I suppose I could do. After all, we did have enjoy quite a few interesting times together.”

A barely-stifled grin spread to Lola’s cheeks, and she happily went back to finishing her plate.

When she was finished, she looked back up at Zelda. “Um, hey, can I show you something I’m working on?”

Zelda perked up with interest. “Absolutely!”

“Kay,” Lola said, eagerly wresting herself from her chair. “Meet me outside?” With that, she flashed her mother a quick grin before sprinting back to her room. From her bag, she pulled out her very much work in progress patchwork quilt, along with her sewing supplies, and headed out of the door. Thanks to her father lending her one of his bags that he’d claimed had been enchanted by the koroks, she hadn’t let it leave her person since she’d gotten it. She’d obviously have some time to kill – perhaps she’d be able to make some good progress on it…

* * *

 

His thighs were burning with exertion by the time Link made it to his destination, but he relished the feeling. He’d ridden _hard_ with minimal stops _,_ and thanks to the aid of the Ancient Bridle, he’d made it in just a day and a half.

The shop was a small, Sheikah-style cottage nestled in the woods surrounding Kakariko Village. Pulling back his fur-lined hood, he walked through the door, the gentle tinkling of a bell announcing his entrance.

A large Sheikah man in traditional clothing looked up from his drawings. Colorful tattoos reached up from the hemlines of his clothes to wrap around his neck and wrists. “May I help you?” he asked, giving Link a curious once over.

In answer, Link hung up his cloak and began to unbutton his shirt. The shop owner continued to observe him curiously. “I’d like you to cover this,” Link said, pulling at his shirt to reveal Valen’s carved initials across his breast. “And this,” he hooked this thumb under the waistband of his pants to reveal the scar that ran from his bellybutton to the marred tattoo on his hip. “And this…” he bared his shoulder blade, where the charm suppressing his Champion’s Powers was branded. “Perhaps this too,” he said, gesturing blandly to the ruined skin on his arm. “I don’t know, I’m not particular, as long as it’s gone within the week. I’ll pay you whatever you want.”

The tattoo artist nodded, his arms crossed before him. “Tattooing over scars is more painful than normal,” he said gravely, “especially ones as fresh as some of yours seem to be. Usually I like to give things a couple of weeks to heal in between sessions.”

Link shook his head. “If you start with covering this,” he said, gesturing to his shoulder, “then the healing won’t be an issue. Is it still possible?”

The man crossed frowned and looked at Link contemplatively. It was obvious the Hylian had gone through some serious trauma. Not to mention that brand that looked hauntingly like the Sheikah dark magic runes of old…

What had _happened_ to this guy?

He nodded gruffly. “I can be done in 3 or 4 days if you can withstand the pain.”

Link smirked. “Physical pain has never been an issue.”


End file.
